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, theatres and temples lie
all bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully sleep;
in his first splendour, valley, rock or hill!
the river glideth at his own sweet will,
Dear god! the very house seem asleep
And all that mighty heart is lying still!