 | Poems |  |
81
ON REVISITING THE CUMBRIAN HILLS.
O native land of hills and limpid lakes!O dearer far to me than fertile plains!
After how long exile in southern towns
Once more do I revisit thy grey rocks,
And thy large air, and sound of falling streams.
Whereof when I remind me oftentimes,
Waking, or in delusion of sweet dreams,
I count my lot thrice blest that I was born
In such a land, among so brave a race,
Where not in vain hath Nature ministered
Majestic service to the mind of man.
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