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Sonnet Written on Skiddaw, During a Tempest IT was a dreadful day, when late I passed O’er thy dim vastness, Skiddaw! Mist and cloud Each subject fell obscured, and rushing blast To thee made darling music, wild and loud, Thou Mountain Monarch! Rain in torrents played, As when at sea a wave is borne to heaven, A watery spire, then on the crew dismayed Of reeling ship with downward wrath is driven. I could have thought that every living form Had fled, or perished in that savage storm, So desolate the day. To me were given Peace, calmness, joy; then to myself I said, Can grief, time, chance, or elements control Man’s chartered pride, the liberty of soul? John Wilson's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1281 |
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