The Poetry Corner

On The Projected Kendal And Windermere Railway

By William Wordsworth

Is then no nook of English ground secure From rash assault? Schemes of retirement sown In youth, and 'mid the busy world kept pure As when their earliest flowers of hope were blown, Must perish; how can they this blight endure? And must he too the ruthless change bemoan Who scorns a false utilitarian lure 'Mid his paternal fields at random thrown? Baffle the threat, bright Scene, from Orresthead Given to the pausing traveler's rapturous glance: Plead for thy peace, thou beautiful romance Of nature; and, if human hearts be dead, Speak, passing winds; ye torrents, with your strong And constant voice, protest against the wrong.