Earth has not anything to show more foul Dead would be the soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its trajedy This City now doth, like a black shroud wear The horror of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All quiet and empty in the smokeless air. Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendor, valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw I, never felt, a chill 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.
Ammended by Dong.
|