In the skies above, their darkness range, Their endless space hath caught my eye, O’er meadows green, in memory strange, Where once I walked, when I was nigh.

For all the sights that Nature gave, A tapestry of colour fine, The solitude of heart doth rave, Above in every glance divine.

And now, in days long past, The sun still warms my line of thought, The shade of trees that ever cast, A world where joy is always sought.

• William Wordsworth