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!