Won't you join me for a walk through my woods and garden today. There was break in the rain in the beginning, but soon a soft rain accompanied me on my walk. . .
The Enchanted Woods beckons us to enter...
Won't you join me for a walk through my woods and garden today. There was break in the rain in the beginning, but soon a soft rain accompanied me on my walk. . .
"The mother of Mrs. Clark, of this lodging, had the farm at Rydal, and was very familiar with the Wordsworths, particularly the old lady [Wordsworth's sister]. Wordsworth is always referred to as the poet in these parts, and local tradition says Dorothy Wordsworth was the greater poet of the two. For some years before her death she was subject to fits of madness, which her brother could generally control. During these, though a pious and sensible lady, she used to swear like a dragoon. She had a craze for putting her clothes on the fire, and they at least got a fender up to the ceiling. She left a great many of Wordsworth's furniture and odds and ends, such as a large clothes horse, to Mrs. Clark's mother."