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Poem by William Wordsworth
In the Frith of Clyde, Ailsa Crag
During an Eclipse of the Sun, July 17 SINCE risen from ocean, ocean to defy, Appeared the Crag of Ailsa, ne’er did morn With gleaming lights more gracefully adorn His sides, or wreathe with mist his forehead high: Now, faintly darkening with the sun’s eclipse, Still is he seen, in lone sublimity, Towering above the sea and little ships; For dwarfs the tallest seem while sailing by, Each for her haven; with her freight of care, Pleasure, or grief, and toil that seldom looks Into the secret of to-morrow’s fare; Though poor, yet rich, without the wealth of books, Or aught that watchful love to Nature owes For her mute powers, fixed forms, or transient shows.
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