When from our better selves we have too long
Been parted by the hurrying world, and droop,
Sick of its business, of its pleasures tired,
How gracious, how benign, is Solitude.
~ William Wordsworth, The Prelude IV 354
Although the wind
blows terribly here,
the moonlight also leaks
between the roof planks
of this ruined house.
blows terribly here,
the moonlight also leaks
between the roof planks
of this ruined house.