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of Grassmere! tranquil, and shut out

From all the strife that shakes a jarring world,

How quietly thy village roofs are bowered

In the cool verdure, while thy graceful spire

Guardeth the ashes of the noble dead,

And, like a fixed and solemn sentinel,

Holm-Crag looks down on all.

And thy pure lake,

Spreading its waveless breast of azure out

'Tween thee and us, — pencil, nor lip of man

May fitly show its loveliness. The soul

Doth hoard it as a gem, and, fancy-led,

Explore its curving shores, its lonely isle,

That, like an emerald clasped in crystal, sleeps.

Ho, stern Helvellyn! with thy savage cliffs

And dark ravines, where the rash traveller's foot

Too oft hath wandered far and ne'er returned,

Why dost thou press so close yon margin green?

Like border-chieftain, seeking for his bride

Some cottage-maiden. Prince among the hills,