On the Borders of Wordsworth Country, In a Troubled Timernby Marion MontgomeryrnNatland hills are gentle, sloping downrnFrom Helm to the trough-cutting Trent;rnMy tower is not your shadowed Grasmere cottagernHigh-circled by fells and scree, like Druid stonesrnShaggy in mists, lowering in spring light.rnGrasmere, couched down in mountains . . .
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