The aspect of the sky was grey
And cast its gloom upon the day.
However light of heart the mood
The mountains silent, brooding stood.
Derwent Island in quiet seclusion sits
The mists deceive the eye with tricks.
A spectral presence on Cat Bells
The lonely traveller walks the fells.
While, in the shadows of the night
The Heavens would with stars alight.
Where poets have often come to dream
I heard the vixen’s anguished scream.
And, then, what silence did prevail
On mountain, lake, and bridal trail.
Waves played tunes upon the stones-
The changing textures and the tones.
That all-transcendent peace and calm
Good faith, and hope, confers on man.
And were those landscapes to be mine
What heights, what summits, I would climb.