Mary Elizabeth Wilson Sherwood,
An Epistle to Posterity — Chapter VII
(1897)
“ It is the only cathedral I have seen in England or on the Continent that can be seen. It has no ugly, unsightly, intrusive buildings between you and it. It stands majestically in its own green park, glorious, complete—a poem and a history in itself. We could never become accustomed to the beauty of England—the finish, the perfection of the whole thing, all so agreeable to an eye used to our own incompleteness. We have not been touched up by time yet; and, indeed, where will be our old cathedrals, our Warwick Castles, to touch up? We can never have the green turf or the lovely flowers ”
