O, may I join the bold, the free, Who roam the hills as they did sway, Ere CB broke and greener trees, Lied by the wildwood in the fray!
Hear those echoes stirring now, In deep valleys where wild winds chaunt; To Nature I yield and bow— Be it the fowler or the font.
In the heart of hills and glade, In the silence from the age,
Where beauty dances, undismayed, Ever preserved on Nature’s page.
- George Gordon Lord Byron