There is an Eminence,--of these our hills <br />The last that parleys with the setting sun; <br />We can behold it from our orchard-seat; <br />And, when at evening we pursue out walk <br />Along the public way, this Peak, so high <br />Above us, and so distant in its height, <br />Is visible; and often seems to send <br />Its own deep quiet to restore our hearts. <br />The meteors make of it a favourite haunt: <br />The star of Jove, so beautiful and large <br />In the mid heavens, is never half so fair <br />As when he shines above it. 'Tis in truth <br />The loneliest place we have among the clouds. <br />And She who dwells with me, whom I have loved <br />With such communion, that no place on earth <br />Can ever be a solitude to me, <br />Hath to this lonely Summit given my Name.<br /><br />William Wordsworth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/there-is-an-eminence-of-these-our-hills-2/
