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Greg does not like poetry. This has been a bit of an issue with us for some time–not a significant one, but it is always there, beneath the surface–and so I thought I would share with him a nice little poem. It even rhymes (which is good, considering it’s a sonnet). And we have stood upon the very place it describes.

Upon Westminster Bridge

Earth has not any thing to shew 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

Enjoy.

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Written by srogers

July 2, 2011 at 2:02 am

Posted in Uncategorized

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