“a gentle shock of mild surprise
Has carried far into his heart the voice
Of mountain torrents.”
At midnight, on the summit of Snowdon, from a rift in the cloud-ocean at his feet, he hears
“the roar of waters, torrents, streams
Innumerable, roaring with one voice.”
Under the shadows of the great yew-trees of Borrowdalek he loves
“To lie and listen to the mountain flood
Murmuring from Glaramara’s inmost caves.”