I really enjoyed these lines.
Oft from the neighboring lake the splitting ice,
While it sank down towards the water, sent
Among the meadows and the hills its long
And frequent yelling, imitative some
Of wolves that howl along the Bothnic main.
The description is nice, and the comparison to howling makes the passage stick with you.
A girl who bore a pitcher on her head
And seemed with difficult steps to force her way
Against the blowing wind. It was in truth
An ordinary sight, but I should need
Colors and words that are unknown to man
To paint the visionary dreariness
Which, while I looked all round for my lost guide,
Did at that time invest the naked pool,
The beacon on the lonely eminence,
The woman and her garments vexed and tossed
By the strong wind.
How many times does a poet say they are at a loss for words? It reminds us of the reason why we value those with a gift for writing, they put to words those experiences that escape us. That's why every now and then a line of prose or poetry can blow your skull open, because it put to words some indescribable phenomenon, revealing it for the first time in a way that can be shared amongst each other.
I feel like I'm starting to sound like Wordsworth in the preface, so I'll stop.
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