Sunday Morning Poetry

UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE

ARTH 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

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 splendour 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!

~ William Wordsworth

The gorgeous painting is by Henderson Cisz. I had to give you a Wordsworth poem today as I just finished watching Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont. Oh, if you have time, do watch this lovely, gentle movie. And, now, listen, but ignore the video.