This lone and dreary isle abounds With hills and wild, rugged crags, Where the noble oak, the swift bird bounds, And the angered sea has dashed.

Yet, through the storms that sweep the night, The signs of hope abound, To see the dawn break bright, ‘Gainst nature’s blustering sounds.

Beneath this sky, my spirit soars, For I may walk each trembling shore, And breathe deep of this earthly force, As I resign to nature’s score.

• William Wordsworth