Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802 – Wordsworth, the poem of a romantic

Earth hath 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 splendor, 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!

The Thames at Westminster – RP Lister, the words of a critic

Earth hath not anything to show more fair,
and that’s quite strange, for no one ever planned it.
It’s quite haphazard, like a one-armed bandit.
The English people, being of the ages heir,
has never stopped to think where it was going.
Sometimes it gets there without knowing,
and, having got there , it will stand and stare,
saying, in wonderment: “What, are we there?
Really, old boy, I can’t quite understand it.”

Poor Wordsworth…what would he have thought if he read Lister’s poem…