More Lake District Photos - On The 170th Anniversary of Robert Southey's Death

As mentioned in my previous post I was lucky enough to be in Keswick, visit Robert Southey's grave and to stay in Greta Hall, the home where Southey lived most of his life, on the 170th Anniversary of his death, 21st March 2013. 

I would like to thank Jeronime, Scott and their lovely family, current owners and B&B Managers at Greta Hall, for their wonderful hospitality, as always!

Here are some more photos. Including a couple of panoramic shots you will need to click to view full size.

The Peak of Skiddaw - Keswick, Lake District, Cumbria, UK


Crosthwaite Church - containing an effigy of Southey and where he is buried.


View of the mountains from Southey's grave.


Greta Hall - Keswick, Lake District, Cumbria, UK

360 Degree Panorama of Keswick & Derwent Water

Panoramic Shot of the nearby Yorkshire Dales

Stanzas Written In Robert Southey's Study

Despite many creative things to blog nothing has been getting posted. So it is that I go right back to March 21st, the 170th Anniversary of Robert Southey's death, with this entry. I was lucky enough to be in Robert Southey's Study in Greta Hall (Keswick, United Kingdom) for the second time - and on such a meaningful occasion. 

While sitting in his study I read the following poem in a collection of his works, written late in his life - a telling depiction of his love for books and respect for their writers. Then below that is a poem I wrote immediately following reading his.



Stanzas Written In My Study

by Robert Southey

My days among the Dead are past;
Around me I behold,
Where're these casual eyes are cast,
The mighty minds of old;
My never-failing friends are they,
With whom I converse day by day.

With them I take delight in weal,
And seek relief in woe;
And while I understand and feel
How much to them I owe,
My cheeks have often been bedew'd
With tears of thoughtful gratitude





Stanzas Written In Robert Southey's Study

by Joshua Jones

Who remembers you
When old has passed to new
And new is getting older too

Who recalls a word
You once spoke and they heard
Or they read before you were interred

Who gives much thanks
That here near Greta's banks
You toiled for hours, quill in hand 

Who really knows
The "you" beyond poems and prose
The hopes you never shared or showed

Just know that I
'Til the day I die
Shall share your writing far and wide

For as long as one remembers
You shall always be alive