DESOLATION

[Keld] is embosomed on the breast of desolation: “A land where no man comes / Nor hath come since the making of the world”.  In spots like this we are able to realise – if it still be possible anywhere in England – something of the old charm and isolation of the pastoral life of Wordsworth’s “Michael”.  The place is approached by savage mountain walks from two directions.

Morris/North Riding

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