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His little, nameless, unremembered [From Lines Composed a Few Miles Above


Of kindness and of love. Nor less, 1 trust,

To them I may have owed another gift,

Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood,

In which the burden of the mystery, In which the heavy and the weary weight

Of all this unintelligible world

Is lightened; that serene and blessed mood,

In which the affections gently lead

us on,

Until, the breath of this corporeal frame,

And even the motion of our human blood,

Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power

Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,

We see into the life of things.

I have learned To look on Nature, not as in the hour

Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes

The still, sad music of humanity, Not harsh nor grating, though of ample power

To chasten and subdue. And I have felt

A presence that disturbs me with the joy

Of elevated thoughts: a sense sublime

Of something far more deeply interfused,

Whose dwelling is the light of setting

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Tintern Abbey.]


THOU art with me, here, upon the banks

Of this fair river; thou, my dearest friend,

My dear, dear friend, and in thy voice I catch

The language of my former heart, and read

My former pleasures in the shooting lights

Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while

May I behold in thee what I was once,

My dear, dear sister! And this prayer I make,

Knowing that Nature never did betray

The heart that loved her: 'tis her privilege,

Through all the years of this our life, to lead

From joy to joy: for she can so in

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