London in Quotations: Robert Montgomery

The fret and fever of the day are o’er, / And London slumbers, but with murmurs faint, / Like Ocean, when she folds her waves to sleep: / ‘Tis the pure hour for poetry and thought; / When passions sink, and man surveys the heavens, / And feels himself immortal. Robert Montgomery (b.1972), London, Religion and Poetry: Being Selections Spiritual and Moral