Poem by William Wordsworth

Skiddaw

PELION and Ossa flourish side by side,
Together in immortal books enrolled:
His ancient dower Olympus hath not sold,
And that inspiring hill, which “did divide
Into two ample horns his forehead wide,”
Shines with poetic radiance as of old;
While not an English mountain we behold
By the celestial muses glorified.
Yet round our sea-girt shore they rise in crowds:
What was the great Parnassus’ self to thee,
Mount Skiddaw? In his natural sovereignty
Our British hill is nobler far; he shrouds
His double front among Atlantic clouds,
And pours forth streams more sweet than Castaly.

1. The Two April Mornings
2. Memory
3. O Nightingale! Thou Surely Art
4. Brook! Whose Society the Poet Seeks
5. A Poet's Epitaph

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