The long-hushed crowd had passed from Keswick’s tent,

And I crept forth to solitude,

To muse and ponder much in deep content,

Mid lonely fell and wood.

Deep into Barrow’s glen I took my way;

The trees shed down their greenest shade;

The lofty cascade in the dying day

Its softest music made!

Thus let me live in joy and even in tears;

My life, like this, a ceaseless song;

A day of heaven lent from the eternal years;

Nor missed in yon bright throng!