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!
W. Wordsworth, Composed upon Westminster Bridge
* * *
In one morning of the beginning of the XIX century, William Wordsworth travelled with his sister Dorothy, from London to Calais. It was still very early when they crossed Westminster Bridge. The early morning sight of the city and the river touched them deeply. Dorothy was a wonderful writer, and the following entry can be found in her diaries [Journal July 31, 1802]:
“It was a beautiful morning. The city, St. Paul’s, with the river, and a multitude of little boats, made a most beautiful sight as we crossed Westminster Bridge. The houses were not overhung by their cloud of smoke, and they were spread out endlessly, yet the sun shone so brightly, with such a fierce light; that there was something like the purity of one of nature’s own grand spectacles.”
Wordsworth didn’t particularly like cities. He found them too dirty, complex and dangerous. Nevertheless he wrote a marvellous sonet about that moment, when the powerful and dangerous heart of London is still asleep.
I like to think that in the early morning of today’s London one can still have a very similar experience.
[I wrote the content of this post some years ago and it was then published in the blog Abrupto - in Portuguese]
