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Home at Grasmere: The Journal of Dorothy Wordsworth and the Poems of William Wordsworth by
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Jim
is on page 173 of 301
We die, my Friend,
Nor we alone, but that which each man loved
And prized in his particular nook of earth
Dies with him or is changed, and very soon
Even of the good is no memorial left.
— Feb 18, 2026 08:49PM
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Nor we alone, but that which each man loved
And prized in his particular nook of earth
Dies with him or is changed, and very soon
Even of the good is no memorial left.
Jim
is on page 60 of 301
We heard a strange sound in the Bainriggs wood, as we were floating on the water; it seemed in the wood, but it must have been above it
presently we saw a raven very high above us. It called out, and the dome
of the sky seemed to echo the sound. It called again and again as it
flew onwards, and the mountains gave back the sound, seeming as if from
their centre; a musical bell-like answering to the bird's hoars
— Feb 17, 2026 09:35PM
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presently we saw a raven very high above us. It called out, and the dome
of the sky seemed to echo the sound. It called again and again as it
flew onwards, and the mountains gave back the sound, seeming as if from
their centre; a musical bell-like answering to the bird's hoars





