BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
Earth has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty:
This city now doth like a garment wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,Ships, towers, domes, theaters, and temples lie Open unto the fields and to the sky;All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. Never did sun more beautifully steepIn his first splendor valley, rock, or hill; Ne"er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will: Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;And all that mighty heart is lying still!
(COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE, SEPTEMBER 3,1802)