On Loughrigg steeps by Rydall shore,
And a sweet voice was speaking clear—
Earth had no other sound so dear.
Her words were, as we passed along,
Of noble sons of truth and song—
Of Arnold brave, and Wordsworth pure.
And how their influences endure.
“They have not left us—are not dead”
(The earnest voice beside me said,)
“For teacher strong and poet sage