Poems in December 10.

I saved this for last because it reminds me (along with many other 18th to 20th century poems) of English classes with Mrs. Joy Bowker; the woman who introduced me to poetry, taught me how to fall in love with the way words fit together, how the same words can mean different things within the body of a poem. I didn't realize my love for poetry stemmed from Mrs. Bowker until much later when I would read works by William Blake, Louis McNeice and they would feel so familiar, so comfortable, because someone had once walked me through each line. I have searched for Mrs. Bowker on Facebook, just so I can say Thank you for the passion with which she taught our predominantly nonchalant 8th grade English class about similes, metaphors, onomatopoeias -- I haven't found her yet.

So, this one (the last of this series) is in dedication to Mrs. Joy Bowker -- hands-down the best English teacher on the planet. Here is Upon Westminster Bridge by William Wordsworth (1770-1850).

10.
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!