The Fells

Guest of this lone abode, before thee rise
No frozen summits, that arrogantly aloof
Cannot forget their own magnificence
And greatness; but withal a brotherhood
As Alp or Atlas noble, in port and mien.
Do homage to these suavely eminent ones.
But privy to their bosoms wouldst thou be,
There is a vale whose seaward-parted lips
Murmur eternally some half-divulged
Reluctant secret, where thou mayst o'erhear
The mountains interchange their confidences,
Peak with his kindred peak, that think aloud
Their broad and lucid thoughts in liberal day.
Thither repair alone: the mountain heart
Not two may enter. Thence returning, tell
What thou hast heard. And mid the laurelled souls
Of poets divine, place shall be found for thee.
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