In The Sound Of Mull
Tradition, be thou mute! Oblivion, throw Thy veil in mercy o'er the records, hung Round strath and mountain, stamped by the ancient tongue On rock and ruin darkening as we go, Spots where a word, ghostlike, survives to show What crimes from hate, or desperate love, have sprung; From honour misconceived, or fancied wrong, What feuds, not quenched but fed by mutual woe. Yet, though a wild vindictive Race, untamed By civil arts and labours of the pen, Could gentleness be scorned by those fierce Men, Who, to spread wide the reverence they claimed For patriarchal occupations, named Yon towering Peaks, "Shepherds of Etive Glen?"
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"Tradition, be thou mute! Oblivion, throw..."
This evocative piece by William Wordsworth, titled "In The Sound Of Mull", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...