O City, ever wrapt in thine own mist!
Exempt almost from change of night and day,
Little thou knowest of the dawn-lights gay
Or the pale tower by sunset's glory kissed.
Thee the wild Thunder, bully as he list,
Can scarce make hearken: the defenceless Snow
Is soiled beneath thy footsteps ere thou know
How fair a thing thine arrogance oppressed.
So reign'st Thou—in thy calm obscurity
Not wanting grandeur, though it be no more
Than that of a vain world, to whom unknown
Heaven's mercies gently call, Heaven's warnings roar,
While in a dim complacence of its own
Enwrapt, it lets the life of life pass by.