I—London
Athwart the sky
a lowly sigh1
From west to east the sweet wind carried
;2
The sun stood still on Primrose Hill ;3
His light in all the city tarried :4
The clouds on viewless columns bloomed5
Like smouldering lilies unconsumed.6
“ Oh, sweetheart, see, how shadowy,7
Of some occult magician’s rearing,8
Or swung in space of Heaven’s grace,9
Dissolving, dimly reappearing,10
Afloat upon etherial tides11
St. Paul above the city rides !”12
A rumour broke through the thin smoke13
Enwreathing Abbey, Tower, and Palace,14
The parks, the squares, the thoroughfares,15
The million-peopled lanes and alleys,16
An ever-muttering prisoned storm,17
The heart of London beating warm.18