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Whitehaven At Night

Whitehaven, Into The Night

A Night Piece:

William Wordsworth (1770-1850) was a frequent visitor to Whitehaven, in West Cumbria. I wonder what he would think of the town now, compared to when he was alive? Many of the old buildings are gone, but the fabric of the town is still there. I think he would be impressed at the changes.

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My Place

I’ve always had an affinity with Whitehaven, and it is my home town. The people, the joviality, the passion, the friendship – it’s what makes Whitehaven a special place for me.

Wordsworth: The Sky Is Overcast

With a continuous cloud of texture close,
Heavy and wan, all whitened by the Moon,
Which through that veil is indistinctly seen,
A dull, contracted circle, yielding light
So feebly spread, that not a shadow falls,
Chequering the ground–from rock, plant, tree, or tower.

At length a pleasant instantaneous gleam
Startles the pensive traveller while he treads
His lonesome path, with unobserving eye
Bent earthwards; he looks up–the clouds are split
Asunder,–and above his head he sees
The clear Moon, and the glory of the heavens.

There, in a black-blue vault she sails along,
Followed by multitudes of stars, that, small
And sharp, and bright, along the dark abyss
Drive as she drives: how fast they wheel away,
Yet vanish not!–the wind is in the tree,
But they are silent;–still they roll along
Immeasurably distant; and the vault,
Built round by those white clouds, enormous clouds,
Still deepens its unfathomable depth.

At length the Vision closes; and the mind,
Not undisturbed by the delight it feels,
Which slowly settles into peaceful calm,
Is left to muse upon the solemn scene.

William Wordsworth, 1798.

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