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 
          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!