Classic Poem

There is one cottage in our dale,
In naught distinguished from the rest,
Save by a tuft of flourishing trees,
The shelter of that little nest.

The public road through Grasmere vale
Winds close beside that cottage small,
And there 'tis hidden by the trees
That overhang the orchard wall.

You lose it there — its serpent line
Is lost in that close household grove;
A moment lost — and then it mounts
The craggy hills above.