Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, AMONG THE RUINS OF A CONVENT IN THE APENNINES, by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH



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AMONG THE RUINS OF A CONVENT IN THE APENNINES, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Ye trees! Whose slender roots entwine
Last Line: Appear to sight still more forlorn.
Subject(s): Apennines (mountains); Convents; Mountains; Ruins; Hills; Downs (great Britain)


YE Trees! whose slender roots entwine
Altars that piety neglects;
Whose infant arms enclasp the shrine
Which no devotion now respects;
If not a straggler from the herd
Here ruminate, nor shrouded bird,
Chanting her low-voiced hymn, take pride
In aught that ye would grace or hide --
How sadly is your love misplaced,
Fair Trees, your bounty run to waste!
Ye, too, wild Flowers! that no one heeds,
And ye -- full often spurned as weeds --
In beauty clothed, or breathing sweetness
From fractured arch and mouldering wall --
Do but more touchingly recall
Man's headstrong violence and Time's fleetness,
Making the precincts ye adorn
Appear to sight still more forlorn.






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