That one, the fairest of all rivers, loved
To blend his murmurs with my nurse's song,
And, from his alder shades and rocky fall,
And from his fords ans shallows, sent a voice
That flowed along my dreams? For this, didst thou,
O Derwent! winding among grassy holms
Where I was looking on, a bebe in arms,
Make ceaseless music that composed my thoughts
To more than infant softness, giving me
Amid the fretful dwellings of mankind
A foretaste, a dim earnest, of the calm
That Nature breathes among the hills and groves.
Furness Abbey
"Nor is my aim neglected if I tell
How twice in the long length of those half-years
We from our funds perhaps with bolder hand
Drew largelu, anxious for one day at least
To feel the motion of the galloping steed.
And with the good old innkeeper, in truth,
On such occasion sometimes we employed
Aly subterfuge, for the intended bound
Of the day's journey was too distant far
For any cautious man: a structure famed
Beyond its neighbourhood, the antique walls
Of that large abbey which within the Vale
Of Nightshade, to St Mary's honour built,
Stands yet, a mouldering pile with fractured arch,
Belfry, and images, and living trees---
A holy scene. Along the smooth green turf
Our horses grazed. To more than inland peace
Left by the sea-eind passing overhead
(Though wind of roughest temper) trees and towers
May in that valley oftentimes be seen
Both silent and both motionless alike,
Such is the shelter that is there, and such
The safeguard for repose and quiteness.
With whip and spur we by the chauntry flew
In uncouth race, and left the cross-legged knight,
And the stone abbot, and that single wren
Which one day sang so sweetly in the nave
Of the old church that, though from recent showers
The earth was comfortless, and, touched by faint
Internal breeze ---sobbings of the place
And respirations --- from the roofless walls
The shuddering ivy dripped large drops, yet still
So sweetly 'mid the gloom the invisible bird
Aang to itself that there I could have made
My dwelling-place, and lived for ever there
To hear such music." (Prelude Book 2. 99-135)
A farewell to Dove Cottage and grasmere
Farewell, thou littlw Nook of mountain-ground,
Thou rocky corner in the lowest stair
Of that magnificent temple which doth bound
One side of our whole vale with grandeur rare;
Sweet garden-orchard, eminently fair,
The loveliest spot that man hath ever found,
Farewell! ---We leave thee to Heaven's peaceful care,
Thee, and the Cottage which thou doest surround.
