Circumspice 1

Part 1 - London's Medieval Minster Cathedrals come, cathedrals go, but none impresses or enthralls (summer drought or winter snow, sparkling springs or foggy falls) quite like the Church of Old Saint Paul's. Six hundred years this marvel stood, surviving earthquakes, wars and fires: vaulting not of stone, but wood, with one of Europe's tallest spires, so plainly seen from eastern shires. The doors of transepts north and south (the shorter "arms", that is to say) were never closed. Each monstrous mouth admitted strollers, night and day, like Shakespeare, off to see a play. But nothing lasts. All things must pass. No permanence is ever found. Grief follows joy. All flesh is grass. First, the mighty spire was downed, then the roof (by now unsound) was razed completely to the ground.