Composed Upon Westminster Bridge September 3, 1802 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! William Wordsworth
(England, 1770-1850) This is one of Wordsworth’s most
famous poems, but in some ways, it’s a pretty surprising theme for a
Romantic poet. The Romantic movement in English poetry, of which
Wordsworth is of course one of the most significant figures, is
characterized by its appreciation of the natural world. The sonnet we
read last week is a good example of that – walking by the sea in the
evening, Wordsworth is overwhelmed with the beauty of it all—it is a
religious experience, a glimpse of God. For the Romantics, nature has
that power. If the beauty of the natural world is a pathway to
God, what happens in the city? For the Romantics and their successors,
the city is often suspect. As Wordsworth’s friend and fellow Romantic
Coleridge lamented, “I was reared / In the great city, pent 'mid
cloisters dim, / And saw nought lovely but the sky and stars.” For the
Romantics, to be deprived of nature is to be deprived of a way of
connecting to God—because nature is seen as God’s very language.
That’s why this poem is surprising. “Earth has not anything to show more
fair,” the poem begins. “Dull would he be of soul who could pass by / A
sight so touching in its majesty.” But this poem is not about a mountain
or a river or an ocean view. It’s a poem about the city of London!
Standing on Westminster Bridge in the morning, the poet is stunned by
the beauty of the scene, “ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples.”
It’s not just the skyline that the poet finds so beautiful,
though he certainly glimpses beauty there. Rather, what Wordsworth
notices is the interplay between the natural world and the city. London
is wearing “the beauty of the morning” “like a garment.” From his
vantage point, he can see the great buildings and institutions in
relationship with the world, “open unto the fields, and to the sky.” The
morning sun shines on the city, and Wordsworth writes, “Never did sun
more beautifully steep / In his first splendor, valley, rock, or hill.”
That’s quite a statement for a Romantic, isn’t it! There is as much
beauty here as when the sun rises on a natural landscape, and the sense
of calm is just as profound. And this experience, like the experience of
beauty in the natural world, has a religious dimension. “Dear God,” the
poet exclaims, “the very houses seem asleep; / And all that mighty heart
is lying still!” The poet is awake to the beauty of the city.
But there’s a certain tension in this poem at the same time. The poet
sees the city in the early morning, in a rare moment of stillness and
silence. There are no chimneys belching smoke, which is why everything
appears all “bright and glittering in the smokeless air.” There are no
people about—they are all asleep, and the “mighty heart” of the city is,
for the moment, still. In this poem, the poet of nature embraces the
city—but not quite. This is the city, but its beating heart– commerce,
the arts, worship, all the activity of the people who inhabit it—is
“lying still.” When the city wakes up, when things start moving, we get
the sense that its beauty might be harder to see. Much of the
Bible is centered on a city: Jerusalem dominates both the Old and New
Testaments. In the Scriptures, Jerusalem is a microcosm of the world: we
glimpse its cruelty and violence, its corruption and lack of faith, its
indifference to human need. But Jerusalem is also God’s city, a vision
and promise of the world as it should be: the place where God lives in
the midst of his people. In the Book of Revelation, “the new Jerusalem,”
the holy city (21:3), is the destiny of humankind. Does it
surprise you that heaven is described as a city? In The Joy of the
Gospel, Pope Francis writes, “it is curious that God’s revelation tells
us that the fullness of humanity and of history is realized in a city.
We need to look at our cities with a contemplative gaze, a gaze of faith
which sees God dwelling in their homes, in their streets and squares….
He dwells among them, fostering solidarity, fraternity, and the desire
for goodness, truth and justice” (71). May we look at our
cities with the “contemplative gaze” Pope Francis writes about, and
become more aware of God, who is already dwelling in the midst of the
people who live in them.
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