Tintern Abbey

William Wordsworth wrote a poem entitled Tintern Abbey.

Actually, its full title is "Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, On Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour. July 13, 1798." And it actually is about the River Wye and never mentions the Abbey.

The valley and the little stream that runs by Tintern are not only lush, intimate and beautiful, but on a sunny day like yesterday, the area is peaceful and filled with the sounds of doves and finches.

But in my opinion, Wordsworth missed the real gem, the spectacular ruins of the Abbey.

Maybe there were too many ruins in Britain for any one ruin to attract the inspiration of the poet. Maybe the River Wye was more special to Wordsworth than a ruin. But then, especially in the late 18th Century, before the days of motorways, automobile dins, and chattering tourists, there would have been plenty of idyllic nature scenes to inspire poets great and mediocre.

We were lucky to get there early on a sunny day. We had the place to ourselves for the first half an hour, and only a handful of visitors had arrived by the time we left. But the two parking lots were ominously large.

Tintern Abbey is no ordinary ruin. It is one of the most spectacular sights I have ever seen. It's not even a sight as much as an experience.

The soaring open stone shapes are amazing, all framed with the lush green of the lawn that serves as its floor, and the green of the trees, paddocks and bushes of the small valley that is the setting for this jewel.

It is more a fantastic sculpture than a ruin.

The destruction of royal greed and survival is imprinted upon seemingly every church and castle in Britain. Tintern was a thriving Cistercian abbey in the early Middle Ages. But even before Henry VIII dissolved the monasteries and pocketed their wealth (even the Abbey's lead roof was stripped and sold off) the population decline of the Black Plague and the damage from Welsh revolts against the English rulers took their toll.

The odd thing for me is my suspicion that ruin has improved the Abbey. Its exposed bones in their simplicity, shapes and grandeur strike me as an amazingly powerful blend of art, spirituality, and nature — and not a little sense of timeless haunting.