London.

Upon Westminster Bridge
by William Wordsworth
Sept. 3, 1802

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!



Yep, seems accurate. Thanks, William. (By the way, I got that rose from the Globe. The actors threw them after the performance, and a man who was picking them up gave one to me. Needless to say, it's currently drying above my mirror so I can keep it for posterity.)