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Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own; Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, And, even with something of a Mother's mind,
And no unworthy aim,
The homely Nurse doth all she can To make her Foster-child, her Inmate Man,
Forget the glories he hath known, And that imperial palace whence he came.
Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,
A wedding or á festival,
And this hath now his heart,
Then will he fit his tongue
But it will not be long
And with new joy and pride
" humorous stage With all the Persons, down to palsied Age, That Life brings with her in her equipage; 105
As if his whole vocation
Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
Thy Soul's immensity; Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep Thy heritage, thou Eye among the blind, That, deaf and silent, readst the eternal
deep, Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,
Mighty Prophet! Seer blest!
On whom those truths do rest, Which we are toiling all our lives to find, In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave; Thou, over whom thy Immortality Broods like the Day, a Master o'er a Slave, A Presence which is not to be put by; Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height, Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke The
years to bring the inevitable yoke, Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife? 125 Full soon thy Soul shall have her earthly
freight, And custom lie upon thee with a weight, Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
O joy! that in our embers
What was so fugitive!
breed Perpetual benediction: not indeed For that which is most worthy to be blest; 135 Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest,
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his
The song of thanks and praise;
Blank misgivings of a Creature
But for those first affections,
Those shadowy recollections,
Which, be they what they may,
Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
To perish never;
Nor Man nor Boy,
Hence in a season of calm weather
Though inland far we be,
Which brought us hither,
Can in a moment travel thither, 165 And see the Children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the young Lambs bound
We in thought will join your throng,
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Feel the gladness of the May! What though the radiance which was once so bright
175 Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the
In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind.
And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and
Groves, Forebode not any severing of our loves ! Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might; I only have relinquished one delight To live beneath your more habitual sway. I love the Brooks which down their channels
fret, Even more than when I tripped lightly as
they; The innocent brightness of a new-born Day Is lovely yet;
195 The Clouds that gather round the setting
Do take a sober colouring from an eye