Why should I seek these scenes again, the past
Is on yon valley like a shroud
Weep for the love that fate forbids,
Yet loves unhoping on,
Though every light that once illumed
Its early path be gone.
Weep for the love that must resign
The heart's enchanted dream,
And float, like some neglected bark,
Adown life's lonely stream.
Weep for the love these scenes recall,
Like some enduring spell;
It rests within the soul which loved
Too vainly, and too well.
Weep for the breaking heart condemn'd
To see its youth pass by,
Whose lot has been in this cold world
To dream, despair, and die.
Author's note: "Among the mountains which form the southern boundary of Haweswater, is Mardale Head, a wild and solitary region, wherein nature, working with a master hand, seems to have produced the very beau ideal of romantic grandeur and sublimity."