Wordsworth’s poem: Composed Upon Westminster Bridge

Earth hath 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, theatres and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless
air. Never did sun more beautifully steep
In 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!

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