[John Whitworth]

Bazza Splendidly upheld the honour of the Sphere in the Odd Job line. Is he a reincarnation of Marlowe anyway? Hardboiled but sentimental? The new competition is a bit of a facer for those of you who do not know what the NEW bridge looks like. Is it new? I shall report back on this one.

NO. 2723: two bridges
You are invited to submit an updated version of Wordsworth’s ‘Upon Westminster Bridge’. Please email entries, if possible, to lucy@spectator.co.ukby midday on 16 November.

[John Whitworth]

It is a new bridge, built in 1864. Canaletto painted the old one, and reminds us that the most notable buildings Saint Thomas's Hospital on the South side, and the Houses of Parliament on the North side, were not there when Wordsworth wrote his poem. The old houses of Parliament were burned to a crisp in 1839 - Turner has a painting. No London Eye of course, and no Charing Cross (North Side) and Waterloo (South side) Stations. Actually I think all these new buildings are quite splendid, though I don't know whether Wordsworth, a bit of an old fogey even in his younger days, would have approved. Google away, friends. You can write a sonnet without ever having SEEN the thing, can't you?

[George Simmers]

And if you've not been there, Google Street View should give you a pretty good idea of the terrain.

[basil ransome-davies]

Originally Posted by John Whitworth

no Charing Cross (North Side) and Waterloo (South side) Stations.

Those stations are linked by Hungerford rail & pedestrian bridge, between Westminster & Waterloo bridges, though Waterloo station is near the south-bank end of Westminster Bridge.

[John Whitworth]

Wot, no takers? Here's mine though a bit late.

Two Bridges

Westminster Bridge, two Wordsworths standing on it,
As underneath sweet Thames runs softly by;
Bill wears a hat and Dorothy a bonnet.
They lean upon the pediment and sigh.
'How beautiful!' they say to one another.
Says Dorothy, 'How fair the rising sun!'
'That's good. That's very good,' agrees her brother,
Who thinks a sonnet on it might be done.

A new bridge now, no Wordsworths, both long dead,
Old privilege subsumed in new skullduggery,
Old Empire waxing, waning, put to bed,
New Thames embanked, Parliament burned to buggery.
Temples of glass and steel ascend the Heavens,
And the mad world's at sixes and at sevens.

[Jayne Osborn]

Wot, no takers?

Struggling to think of something so far, John, but there's still a glimmer of hope.

I love 'sonnet on it'!

[FOsen]

And now, Earth hasn’t anything as fair-
ground-like to show, as this large ferris wheel.
Where Wordsworth found his London’s great appeal
Lay in its lying like a sleeper, bare

And open to his gaze in morning air,
Ten score-ten years ago, it’s as unreal,
To see the city’s majesty, yet feel
It’s never dormant now nor unaware,

Except when it rolls forth as we sail high
And arc above it on this rounded track.
Wordsworth, were you were living, you would fly

Here, since it’s now the only place nearby
Where you could gaze and not find gazing back
At you, this blinking, never-blinking Eye.

Frank