Here the gay warbler’s sweetly carolled song
Resounds reverberating rocks among,
Whilst o’er mossed stones Wye’s new-born waters wail
Spreading their murmurs through this lonely dale.
Rydal Water.
Addressed to Wordsworth.
How fair beneath the noontide light,
In splendour rests this silver lake,
Engirt by many a mountain height,