Verse > William Wordsworth > Complete Poetical Works
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THE RIVER DUDDON

A SERIES OF SONNETS, 1820.

II

          CHILD of the clouds! remote from every taint
          Of sordid industry thy lot is cast;
          Thine are the honours of the lofty waste
          Not seldom, when with heat the valleys faint,
          Thy handmaid Frost with spangled tissue quaint
          Thy cradle decks;--to chant thy birth, thou hast
          No meaner Poet than the whistling Blast,
          And Desolation is thy Patron-saint!
          She guards thee, ruthless Power! who would not spare
          Those mighty forests, once the bison's screen,              10
          Where stalked the huge deer to his shaggy lair
          Through paths and alleys roofed with darkest green;
          Thousands of years before the silent air
          Was pierced by whizzing shaft of hunter keen!


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