Poem by William Wordsworth

* * *

The River Duddon

NOT envying Latian shades--if yet they throw
A grateful coolness round that crystal Spring,
Blandusia, prattling as when long ago
The Sabine Bard was moved her praise to sing;
Careless of flowers that in perennial blow
Round the moist marge of Persian fountains cling;
Heedless of Alpine torrents thundering
Through ice-built arches radiant as heaven's bow;
I seek the birthplace of a native Stream.--
All hail, ye mountains! hail, thou morning light! 
Better to breathe at large on this clear height
Than toil in needless sleep from dream to dream:
Pure flow the verse, pure, vigorous, free, and bright,
For Duddon, long-loved Duddon, is my theme!

1. Upon the Sight of a Beautiful Picture Painted by Sir G. H. Beaumont, Bart
2. Louisa
3. Who Fancied What a Pretty Sight
4. The Horn of Egremont Castle
5. Ode Composed on a May Morning

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