O, what a vision fair In the sun’s descending ray! Majestic mountains, rocky bare, Where the silver waters play.
In the depths of woodland sighs, Where no lore of man can reach; When the wild bird’s piercing cries Are uttered, without speech.
In the distance, brooding skies, Lo! a peace no heart can know; Gathers softly, and supplies Calmness to the world below.
- Alfred Lord Tennyson