Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
England: Vols. I–IV. 1876–79.

Derwent, the River

For the Spot Where the Hermitage Stood on St. Herbert’s Island, Derwent Water

By William Wordsworth (1770–1850)

IF thou in the dear love of some one friend

Hast been so happy that thou know’st what thoughts

Will sometimes in the happiness of love

Make the heart sink, then wilt thou reverence

This quiet spot; and, Stranger! not unmoved

Wilt thou behold this shapeless heap of stones,

The desolate ruins of St. Herbert’s cell.

Here stood his threshold; here was spread the roof

That sheltered him, a self-secluded man,

After long exercise in social cares

And offices humane, intent to adore

The Deity, with undistracted mind,

And meditate on everlasting things,

In utter solitude. But he had left

A fellow-laborer, whom the good man loved

As his own soul. And when, with eye upraised

To heaven, he knelt before the crucifix,

While o’er the lake the cataract of Lodore

Pealed to his orisons, and when he paced

Along the beach of this small isle and thought

Of his companion, he would pray that both

(Now that their earthly duties were fulfilled)

Might die in the same moment. Nor in vain

So prayed he;—as our chronicles report,

Though here the hermit numbered his last day

Far from St. Cuthbert, his beloved friend,

Those holy men both died in the same hour.