some Wordsworth haikus (& photos from a trip to Grasmere)

Under Wordsworth’s rapturous gaze

Grasmere transformed,

lost in a lyrical haze


streams of sublime visitations,

whispers of lakes, caves, valleys, skies,

all captured in clearest cadence

he also tells of a childhood dread

when at night this beauty turned to horror

as twisted mighty forms writhed, eluding words


Up the rocky path at Greenhead Ghyll

he told the story of Michael,

who waits silently for his son to come home

at times he wrote with a quill

and soon his dancing words

began to soar… 

he wandered, wondered,

at the cloudy mirage in the mere,

 His boat lolling gently by lakeside



a few more photos…

taken from the top of Wordsworth’s back garden at Dove Cottage
“within the bounds of this huge concave; here should be my home, this valley be my world” – Wordsworth, Home at Grasmere
grasmere caves
the ACTUAL first page from Wordsworth’s first handwritten manuscript of the Prelude … an awe-inspiring moment to see it up close