Professor Dupa Cloaca - Getting a Grip on the Classics

Sonnet on Westminster Bridge by William Wordsworth, as he wrote it:

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!



And now, brought up to date, and made relevant::

Sonnet on Westminster River-Related Pedestrian and Vehicular Facility, as rewritten by Professor Dupa Cloaca, Professor of Newspeak at, and Founder of, Cloaca College, Camford.

Now much more relevant.

Top of world-class locations, quality plus
Only the spiritually-challenged would
Ignore a sight so emotionally good
And first rate. It looks so fabulous,
Wearing the pretty morning, noise-free, nude
-The urban built environment’s pristine
In the unpolluted atmosphere, so fine,
That agro-touristic features can be viewed.

Sun never lit natural amenities so well.
I never felt so cool, so chilled, I tell
You. The waterway flows constraint-free, and how!
Dwellings seem to be sleeping, as of now.
And from the lack of movement in its chest,
Seems like the place has cardiac arrest.

A thought for today, General Election 2010

Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour:

LONDON, 1802.

Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour:
England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters: altar, sword and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Thy soul was like a Star and dwelt apart:
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea;
Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,
So didst thou travel on life's common way,
In chearful godliness; and yet thy heart
The lowliest duties on itself did lay.

William Wordsworth London 1802

Hah!