MOUNTAIN TARNS
There is a power to bless
In hill-side loneliness,
In tarns and dreary places,
A virtue in the brook,
A freshness in the look
Of mountain's joyless faces.
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And so when life is dull,
Or when my heart is full
Because coy dreams have frowned,
I wander up the rills
To stones and tarns and hills,—
I go there to be crowned.
F. W. FABER.
Ye mountains and ye lakes,
And sounding cataracts, ye mists and winds
That dwell among the hills where I was born,
If in my youth I have been pure in heart,
If, mingling with the world I am content
With my own modest pleasures, and have lived
With God and Nature communing, removed
From little enmities and low desires—
The gift is yours.
The Prelude,
WORDSWORTH.