The Feast of St Hilary - Westminster

I watched the morning yesterday
Where from the ample stair you look
Across the Park beneath the gray
Ungainly column of the Duke:

You see him like a stylite true
Impaled upon his pillar stand; —
It seems to pierce him through and through,
The rod that braves the levin-brand.

Sunlit the other column glowed
Intensely, lifting to the skies
The admiral who swept the road
Of empire clear for centuries.

Entangled on the Surrey-side
The eager day a moment hung.
Then struck in hate his ardent stride
And round the southern chimneys swung.

A silvery weft of finest lawn,
So thin, so phantom-like, became
Ethereal mystery scarcely drawn
Athwart the morning's saffron flame;

The Palace and the Abbey lost
Their character of masonry,
Transformed to glittering shadows tossed
And buoyant on a magic sea;

And park and lake and precincts old
Of Westminster were all arrayed
In spectral weeds of pearl and gold
And airy drifts of amber braid.