PATS CHAT

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.