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Sept. 3, 1802
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!
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