The night on the city


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, theater, and temples lie
open into the fields. and to the sky;
all bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
never did sun more beautfully steep
in his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill
never 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!

-willian wordsworth

The night on the city

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