Upon Westminster Bridge

Upon Westminster Bridge

This is Birmingham, first thing on a Sunday morning in March – the words of William Wordsworth always spring to mind when I look out on a city shadowed with hazy wisps of morning mist, buildings sparkling in the sunshine.

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Earth has not anything to show more fair;
Dull would he be who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
The 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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