the night, Scudding away from snare to snare, I plied That anxious visitation; moon and stars Were shining o'er my head. I was alone, And seemed to be a trouble to the peace That dwelt among them. Sometimes it befell In these night wanderings, that a strong desire O'erpowered my better reason, and the bird Which was the captive of another's toil 320 Became my prey; and when the deed was done I heard among the solitary hills Of undistinguishable motion, steps Nor less, when spring had warmed the Moved we as plunderers where the mother bird Had in high places built her lodge; though mean Our object and inglorious, yet the end 340 Dust as we are, the immortal spirit grows Like harmony in music; there is a dark Inscrutable workmanship that reconciles Discordant elements, makes them cling together In one society. How strange, that all And that a needful part, in making up 351 Whether her fearless visitings, or those That came with soft alarm, like hurtless light Opening the peaceful clouds; or she would Of unknown modes of being; o'er my thoughts There hung a darkness, call it solitude Like living men, moved slowly through the mind By day, and were a trouble to my dreams. 401 Wisdom and Spirit of the universe! Thou Soul that art the eternity of thought That givest to forms and images a breath And everlasting motion, not in vain By day or star-light thus from my first dawn Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me The passions that build up our human soul; Beneath the gloomy hills homeward I went In solitude, such intercourse was mine; Mine was it in the fields both day and night, And by the waters, all the summer long. And in the frosty season, when the sun Was set, and visible for many a mile The cottage windows blazed through twilight gloom, I heeded not their summons: happy time It was indeed for all of us - for me It was a time of rapture! Clear and loud 430 The village clock tolled six, — I wheeled 420 If this be error, and another faith Find easier access to the pious mind, Yet were I grossly destitute of all Those human sentiments that make this earth So dear, if I should fail with grateful voice To speak of you, ye mountains, and ye lakes And sounding cataracts, ye mists and winds That dwell among the hills where I was born. If in my youth I have been pure in heart, If, mingling with the world, I am content With my own modest pleasures, and have lived With God and Nature communing, removed 430 From little enmities and low desires 440 |