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!