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Is this the greatest poem of all time?

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Friday 14 October 2005 8.19am
Composed very close to SE1, Sept 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; 10
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!
Friday 14 October 2005 11.13am
Ahhh Wordsworth, I love this one too.

(There aren't many fields to be seen anymore though!)
Friday 14 October 2005 2.50pm
Fleas by Eric Shackle

Adam
Had 'em.
Anonymous User
Friday 14 October 2005 2.59pm
I like Dumb Insolence by Adrian Mitchell containing the line:

And while I stare at them
I think about sick


Don't know why - it was in the book of contemporary verse we studied at high school - I never forgot it.

I always found 'Norman Morrison' moving too - I can't find the words to it anywhere but it was very sad.
Friday 14 October 2005 3.44pm
Big fleas have little fleas
Upon their backs to bite them
And little fleas have lesser fleas
And so, ad infinitum

I wandered lonely as a Cloud
That floats on high o'er Vales and Hills,
When all at once I heard a voice
Get off my f****** daffodils.

Hope I'm not lowering the tone!!!
Sunday 16 October 2005 10.58pm
Would that if I were a tree
large of girth I would not be
round and brown
gree maybe...
Wood -
That's if I were a tree
Wednesday 14 December 2005 12.18am
Sometimes it's hard to believe we're surrounded by millions of people. I have a nice cup of coffee,
Beethovens Pastoral playing quietly in the background and all is peaceful.

http://www.age-of-the-sage.org/quotations/poetry/grays_elegy.html

The Curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds.

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