when I think of you
it is 1818 and you are ambling
Scottish lochs and crags with Brown
and marvelling at truth you see in
silver waterfalls and
green isles
shimmering in mist
stepping ancient paths
stick in hand
just twenty-two and yet so set
on this journey of yours
to write great verses
to create beauty rivalling
the cliffs of Helm Craig
did you know that this would be your
one
great adventure
two weeks of twenty miles a day
past the homes of Wordsworth and Burns
feet touching timeless
sure set earth
from lowlands to highlands
and your mind gleaning romantic
light
to set down
your young timeless stamp on the
truth/beauty
of the ages?
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