The Enfolded Prelude: Book Second

1805 text is in green 1850 text is in purple

Book Second

School-time (Continued)

    Thus far, O Friend! have we, though leaving much
    Unvisited, endeavour'd endeavoured to retrace
    My life through its first years, and measured backThe simple ways in which my childhood walked;
    The way I travelI'd when I Those chiefly that first beganled me to the love
    To love the woods Of rivers, woods, and fields; the fields. The passion yet
    Was in its birth, sustain'd, sustained as might befal,befall
    By nourishment that came unsought, unsought; for still,still
    From week to week, from month to month, we liv'dlived
    A round of tumult: duly tumult. Duly were our games
    Prolong'd Prolonged in summer till the day-light fail'd;daylight failed:
    No chair remain'd remained before the doors, doors; the bench
    And threshold steps were empty; fast asleep
    The Labourer, labourer, and the old Man man who had sate,sate
    A later lingerer, lingerer; yet the revelry
    Continued, Continued and the loud uproar: at last,
    When all the ground was dark, and the huge cloudstwinkling stars
    Were edged with twinkling stars, Edged the black clouds, home and to bed we went,
    With Feverish with weary joints, joints and with a beating mind.minds.
    Ah! is there one who ever has been young,
    Nor needs a monitory warning voice to tametame the pride
    The pride of virtue, Of intellect and of intellect?virtue's self-esteem?
    And One is there one, there, though the wisest and the best
    Of all mankind, who does covets not sometimes wishat times
    For things which Union that cannot be, be; who would not give,give
    If so he might, to duty and to truth
    The eagerness of infantine desire?
    A tranquillizing tranquillising spirit presses now
    On my corporeal frame: frame, so wide appears
    The vacancy between me and those days,days
    Which yet have such self-presence in my mindmind,
    That, sometimes, when I think of musing on them, often do I seem
    Two consciousnesses, conscious of myself
    And of some other Being. A grey Stonerude mass
    Of native rock, left midway in the Squaresquare
    Of our small market Village, village, was the homegoal
    And Or centre of these joys, sports; and when, return'dreturned
    After long absence, thither I repair'd,repaired,
    I found that it Gone was split, the old grey stone, and gone to buildin its place
    A smart Assembly-room that perk'd and flar'd
    With wash and rough-cast elbowing
usurped the ground
    Which That had been ours. But There let the fiddle scream,
    And be ye happy! yet, Yet, my Friends! I know
    That more than one of you will think with me
    Of those soft starry nights, and that old Dame
    From whom the stone was nam'd named, who there had satesate,
    And watch'd watched her Table table with its huckster's wares
    Assiduous, thro' through the length of sixty years.
    We ran a boisterous race; course; the year span round
    With giddy motion. But the time approach'dapproached
    That brought with it a regular desire
    For calmer pleasures, when the beauteous winning forms
    Of Nature were collaterally attach'dattached
    To every scheme of holiday delight,delight
    And every boyish sport, less grateful else,else
    And languidly pursued.
    When summer camecame,
    It was the Our pastime of our afternoonswas, on bright half-holidays,
    To beat sweep along the plain of Windermere
    With rival oars, oars; and the selected bourne
    Was now an Island musical with birds
    That sang for ever; and ceased not; now a Sister Isle
    Beneath the oaks' umbrageous covert, sown
    With lillies lilies of the valley, valley like a field;
    And now a third small Island Island, where remain'dsurvived
    An old stone Table, and In solitude the ruins of a moulder'd Cave,shrine
    A Hermit's history. Once to Our Lady dedicate, and served
    Daily with chaunted rites.
In such a race,race
    So ended, disappointment could be none,
    Uneasiness, or pain, or jealousy:
    We rested in the shade, all pleas'd pleased alike,
    Conquer'd Conquered and Conqueror. conqueror. Thus the pride of strength,
    And the vain-glory of superior skillskill,
    Were interfus'd with objects which subdu'd
    And temper'd them, and
tempered; thus was gradually produc'dproduced
    A quiet independence of the heart.heart;
    And to my Friend, Friend who knows me, me I may add,
    Unapprehensive Fearless of reproof, blame, that hencehence for future days
    Ensu'd Ensued a diffidence and modesty,
    And I was taught to feel, perhaps too much,
    The self-sufficing power of solitude.Solitude.
    No delicate viands sapp'd our bodily strength;Our daily meals were frugal, Sabine fare!
    More than we wish'd wished we knew the blessing then
    Of vigorous hunger, for our daily mealshunger hence corporeal strength
    Were frugal, Sabine fare! and then, Unsapped by delicate viands; for, exclude
    A little weekly stipend, and we lived
    Through three divisions of the quarter'd quartered year
    In pennyless penniless poverty. But now, now to Schoolschool
    Return'd, from From the half-yearly holidays,holidays returned,
    We came with purses more profusely fill'd,
    Allowance which abundantly suffic'd
weightier purses, that sufficed
    To gratify the palate with repasts
furnish treats more costly than the Dame of whom I spake,Dame
    That ancient Woman, and Of the old grey stone, from her board scant board, supplied.
    Hence inroads into distant Vales, and long
    Excursions far away among the hills,
rustic dinners on the cool green ground,
    Or in the woods, or near by a river side,side
    Or by some shady fountain, fountains, while soft airsamong the leaves
    Among the leaves Soft airs were stirring, and the mid-day sun
    Unfelt, Unfelt shone sweetly brightly round us in our joy.
    Nor is my aim neglected, neglected if I tell
    How twice sometimes, in the long length of those half-yearshalf-years,
    We from our funds, perhaps, with bolder hand
    Drew largely, anxious for one day, at least,
    To feel the motion of the galloping Steed;
    And with the good old Inn-keeper, in truth,
    On such occasion sometimes we employ'd
    Sly subterfuge; for the intended bound
    Of the day's journey was too distant far
    For any cautious man, a Structure famed
    Beyond its neighbourhood, the antique Walls
    Of that large Abbey which within the vale
    Of Nightshade, to St.
funds drew largely;—proud to curb,
    And eager to spur on, the galloping steed;
    And with the courteous inn-keeper, whose stud
    Supplied our want, we haply might employ
    Sly subterfuge, if the adventure's bound
    Were distant: some famed temple where of yore
    The Druids worshipped, or the antique walls
    Of that large abbey, where within the Vale
    Of Nightshade, to St.
Mary's honour built,
    Stands yet, yet a mouldering Pile, pile with fractured Arch,arch,
    Belfry, and Images, images, and living Trees,trees;
    A holy Scene! along scene! Along the smooth green turf
    Our Horses grazed: to horses grazed. To more than inland peacepeace,
    Left by the sea west wind passing sweeping overhead
    (Though wind of roughest temper) From a tumultuous ocean, trees and towers
    May in In that Valley oftentimes sequestered valley may be seen,
    Both silent and both motionless alike;
    Such is the deep shelter that is there, and such
    The safeguard for repose and quietness.
    Our steeds remounted, remounted and the summons given,
    With whip and spur we by through the Chauntry chauntry flew
    In uncouth race, and left the cross-legg'd Knight,cross-legged knight,
    And the stone-Abbot, stone-abbot, and that single Wrenwren
    Which one day sang so sweetly in the Navenave
    Of the old Church, that, church, that though from recent showers
    The earth was comfortless, and, touch'd touched by faint
    Internal breezes, sobbings of the place,place
    And respirations, from the roofless walls
    The shuddering ivy dripp'd dripped large drops, yet still,
    So sweetly 'mid the gloom the invisible Bird
    Sang to itself, that there I could have made
    My dwelling-place, and liv'd for ever there
    To hear such music.
drops—yet still
    So sweetly 'mid the gloom the invisible bird
    Sang to herself, that there I could have made
    My dwelling-place, and lived for ever there
    To hear such music.
Through the Walls walls we flew
    And down the valley, and and, a circuit made
    In wantonness of heart, through rough and smooth
    We scamper'd homeward. Oh! scampered homewards. Oh, ye Rocks rocks and Streams,streams,
    And that still Spirit of the spirit shed from evening air!
    Even in this joyous time I sometimes felt
    Your presence, when with slacken'd slackened step we breath'dbreathed
    Along the sides of the steep hills, or when,when
    Lighted by gleams of moonlight from the sea,sea
    We beat with thundering hoofs the level sand.
    Upon the Eastern Shore of Windermere,Midway on long Winander's eastern shore,
    Above Within the crescent of a pleasant Bay,bay,
    There stood an Inn, A tavern stood; no homely-featured Shed,house,
    Brother of the surrounding Cottages,Primeval like its neighbouring cottages,
    But 'twas a splendid place, the door beset
    With Chaises, Grooms, chaises, grooms, and Liveries, liveries, and within
    Decanters, Glasses, glasses, and the blood-red
    In ancient times, or and ere the Hall was built
    On the large Island, island, had this Dwelling dwelling been
    More worthy of a Poet's poet's love, a Hut,hut,
    Proud of its one own bright fire, fire and sycamore shade.
    But though the rhymes were gone which that once inscribed
    The threshold, and large golden characterscharacters,
    On Spread o'er the blue-frosted Signboard spangled sign-board, had usurp'ddislodged
    The place of the old Lion, Lion and usurped his place, in contemptslight
    And mockery of the rustic painter's hand,
    Yet to this hour the spot to me is dear
    With all its foolish pomp.
    Yet, to this hour, the spot to me is dear
    With all its foolish pomp.
The garden lay
    Upon a slope surmounted by the a plain
    Of a small Bowling-green; bowling-green; beneath us stood
    A grove; grove, with gleams of water through the trees
    And over the tree-tops; nor did we want
    Refreshment, strawberries and mellow cream.
    And there, There, while through half an afternoon, afternoon we play'dplayed
    On the smooth platform, and the shouts we sentwhether skill prevailed
    Or happy blunder triumphed, bursts of glee
Made all the mountains ring. But But, ere the fallnight-fall,
    Of night, when When in our pinnace we return'dreturned at leisure
    Over the dusky Lake, shadowy lake, and to the beach
    Of some small Island steer'd island steered our course with one,
    The Minstrel of our troop, the Troop, and left him there,
    And row'd rowed off gently, while he blew his flute
    Alone upon the rock; Oh! then rock oh, then, the calm
    And dead still water lay upon my mind
    Even with a weight of pleasure, and the skysky,
    Never before so beautiful, sank down
    Into my heart, and held me like a dream.dream!
    Thus daily were my sympathies enlarged,enlarged, and thus
    And thus Daily the common range of visible things
    Grew dear to me: already I began
    To love the sun, sun; a Boy boy I lov'd loved the sun,
    Not as I since have lov'd loved him, as a pledge
    And surety of our earthly life, a light
    Which while we view we behold and feel we are alive;
    But, Nor for this cause, that I had seen him lay
    His beauty on the morning hills, had seen
    The western mountain touch
his setting orb,
    In many a thoughtless hour, when, from excess
    Of happiness, my blood appear'd
bounty to flow
    With its own pleasure, and I breath'd with joy.
so many worlds.—
    But for this cause, that I had seen him lay
    His beauty on the morning hills, had seen
    The western mountain touch his setting orb,
    In many a thoughtless hour, when, from excess
    Of happiness, my blood appeared to flow
    For its own pleasure, and I breathed with joy.

    And And, from like feelings, humble though intense,
    To patriotic and domestic love
    Analogous, the moon to me was dear;
    For I would could dream away my purposes,
    Standing to look gaze upon her while she hung
    Midway between the hills, as if she knew
    No other region; region, but belong'd belonged to thee,
    Yea, appertain'd appertained by a peculiar right
    To thee and thy grey huts, my darling thou one dear Vale!
    Those incidental charms which first attach'dattached
    My heart to rural objects, day by day
    Grew weaker, and I hasten on to tell
    How Nature, intervenient till this time,time
    And secondary, now at length was sought
    For her own sake. But who shall parcel out
    His intellect, intellect by geometric rules,
    Split, Split like a province, province into round and square?
    Who knows the individual hour in which
    His habits were first sown, even as a seed,seed?
    Who that shall point, point as with a wand, wand and say,say
    'This "This portion of the river of my mind
    Came from yon fountain?' fountain?" Thou, my Friend! art one
    More deeply read in thy own thoughts; to thee
    Science appears but, but what in truth she is,
    Not as our glory and our absolute boast,
    But as a succedaneum, and a prop
    To our infirmity. Thou art no No officious slave
    Of Art thou of that false secondary power, by which,power
    In weakness, By which we create multiply distinctions, then
    Deem that our puny boundaries are things
    Which That we perceive, and not which that we have made.
    To thee, unblinded by these outward shows,formal arts,
    The unity of all has hath been reveal'drevealed,
    And thou wilt doubt doubt, with me, me less aptly skill'dskilled
    Than many are to range the faculties
    In scale and order,
class the cabinet
    Of their sensations, and, and in voluble phrase,phrase
    Run through the history and birth of each,each
    As of a single independent thing.
    Hard task task, vain hope, to analyse a soul, in which,
    Not only general habits and desires,
the mind,
    But If each most obvious and particular thought,
    Not in a mystical and idle sense,
    But in the words of reason Reason deeply weigh'd,weighed,
    Hath no beginning.
    Bless'd Blest the infant Babe,
    (For with my best conjectures conjecture I would trace
    The progress of our Being) Our Being's earthly progress,) blest the Babe,
    Nurs'd Nursed in his Mother's arms, the Babe who sleepssinks to sleep
    Upon Rocked on his Mother's breast, who, when his soul
    Claims manifest kindred
breast; who with an earthly soul,
    Doth gather passion from
his Mother's eye!
    Such feelings pass into his torpid life
    Like an awakening breeze, and hence his mind
    Even [in the first trial of its powers]
    Is prompt and watchful, eager to combine
    In one appearance, all the elements
    And parts of the same object, else detach'd
    And loth to coalesce. Thus, day by day,
    Subjected to Drinks in the discipline feelings of love,
    His organs and recipient faculties
    Are quicken'd, are more vigorous,
his mind spreads,
    Tenacious of the forms which it receives.
Mother's eye!
    In For him, in one beloved presence, nay and more,
    In that most apprehensive habitude
    And those sensations which have been deriv'd
    From this beloved
dear Presence, there exists
    A virtue which irradiates and exalts
    All objects Objects through all widest intercourse of sense.
    No outcast he, bewilder'd bewildered and depress'd;depressed:
    Along his infant veins are interfus'dinterfused
    The gravitation and the filial bond
    Of nature, nature that connect him with the world.
    Is there a flower, to which he points with hand
    Too weak to gather it, already love
    Drawn from love's purest earthly fount for him
    Hath beautified that flower; already shades
    Of pity cast from inward tenderness
    Do fall around him upon aught that bears
    Unsightly marks of violence or harm.
Emphatically such a Being lives,
    Frail creature as he is, helpless as frail,
An inmate of this active universe;
    From nature largely he receives; nor so
    Is satisfied, but largely gives again,
    For For, feeling has to him imparted strength,power
    And powerful in all sentiments That through the growing faculties of grief,
    Of exultation, fear, and joy, his mind,
    Even as Doth like an agent of the one great mind,Mind
    Creates, Create, creator and receiver both,
    Working but in alliance with the works
    Which it beholds.-Such, beholds. Such, verily, is the first
    Poetic spirit of our human life;life,
    By uniform control of after yearsyears,
    In most most, abated or suppress'd, suppressed; in some,
    Through every change of growth or and of decay,
    Pre-eminent till death.
    From early days,
    Beginning not long after that first time
    In which, a Babe, by intercourse of touch,touch
    I held mute dialogues with my Mother's heartheart,
    I have endeavour'd endeavoured to display the means
    Whereby this infant sensibility,
    Great birthright of our Being, being, was in me
    Augmented and sustain'd. sustained. Yet is a path
    More difficult before me, me; and I fear
    That in its broken windings we shall need
    The chamois' sinews, and the eagle's wing:
    For now a trouble came into my mind
    From unknown causes. I was left alone,alone
    Seeking the visible world, nor knowing why.
    The props of my affections were remov'd,removed,
    And yet the building stood, as if sustain'dsustained
    By its own spirit! All that I beheld
    Was dear to me, dear, and from this cause it came,
    That now
hence to Nature's finer influxes
    My The mind lay open, open to that a more exact
    And intimate communion which our hearts
    Maintain with the minuter properties
    Of objects which already are belov'd,
    And of those only.
close communion. Many are the our joys
    Of youth; In youth, but oh! what happiness to live
    When every hour brings palpable access
    Of knowledge, when all knowledge is delight,
    And sorrow is not there. there! The seasons came,
    And every season to my notice broughtwheresoe'er I moved
    A store of Unfolded transitory qualitiesqualities,
    Which, but for this most watchful power of lovelove,
    Had been neglected, neglected; left a register
    Of permanent relations, else unknown,unknown.
    Hence life, and change, and beauty, solitude
    More active, even, active ever than 'best society',"best society"
    Society made sweet as solitude
    By silent inobtrusive sympathies,
    And gentle agitations of the mind
    From manifold distinctions, difference
    Perceived in things, where where, to the common unwatchful eye,
    No difference is; is, and hence, from the same sourcesource,
    Sublimer joy; for I would walk alone,
    In storm and tempest, or in starlight nights
Under the quiet Heavens; and, stars, and at that time,time
    Have felt whate'er there is of power in sound
    To breathe an elevated mood, by form
    Or image unprofaned; and I would stand,
    If the night blackened with a coming storm,
Beneath some rock, listening to sounds notes that are
    The ghostly language of the ancient earth,
    Or make their dim abode in distant winds.
    Thence did I drink the visionary power.power;
    I And deem not profitless those fleeting moods
    Of shadowy exultation: not for this,
    That they are kindred to our purer mind
    And intellectual life; but that the soul,
    Remembering how she felt, but what she felt
    Remembering not, retains an obscure sense
    Of possible sublimity, to which,whereto
    With growing faculties she doth aspire,
    With faculties still growing, feeling still
    That whatsoever point they gain, they stillyet
    Have something to pursue.
    And not alone,
    In grandeur 'Mid gloom and in tumult, but no lessless 'mid fair
    In And tranquil scenes, that universal power
    And fitness in the latent qualities
    And essences of things, by which the mind
    Is mov'd by moved with feelings of delight, to me
    Came strengthen'd strengthened with a superadded soul,
    A virtue not its own. My morning walks
    Were early; oft, oft before the hours of Schoolschool
    I travelI'd travelled round our little Lake, lake, five miles
    Of pleasant wandering, happy wandering. Happy time! more dear
    For this, that one was by my side, a FriendFriend,
    Then passionately lov'd; loved; with heart how full
    Will Would he peruse these lines, this page, perhaps
    A blank to other men! for
lines! For many years
    Have since flow'd flowed in between us; and us, and, our minds,minds
    Both silent to each other, at this time
    We live as if those hours had never been.
    Nor seldom did I lift our cottage latch
    Far earlier, and before ere one smoke-wreath had risen
    From human dwelling, or
the vernal thrush
    Was audible, audible; and sate among the hills I satewoods
    Alone, Alone upon some jutting eminenceeminence,
    At the first hour gleam of morning, dawn-light, when the ValeVale,
    Lay quiet Yet slumbering, lay in an utter solitude.
    How shall I trace seek the history, origin? where seekfind
    The origin of what I Faith in the marvellous things which then have I felt?
    Oft in these moments such a holy calm
    Did Would overspread my soul, that I forgotbodily eyes
    That I had bodily eyes, Were utterly forgotten, and what I saw
    Appear'd Appeared like something in myself, a dream,
    A prospect in my the mind.
    'Twere long to tell
    What spring and autumn, what the winter snows,
    And what the summer shade, what day and night,
    The evening Evening and the morning, what my dreamssleep and waking, thought
    And what my waking thoughts supplied, to nurseFrom sources inexhaustible, poured forth
    That To feed the spirit of religious love in whichlove
    In which I walked with Nature. But let this, at leastthis
    Be not forgotten, that I still retain'dretained
    My first creative sensibility,sensibility;
    That by the regular action of the world
    My soul was unsubdu'd. unsubdued. A plastic power
    Abode with me, me; a forming hand, at times
    Rebellious, acting in a devious mood,mood;
    A local spirit of its his own, at war
    With general tendency, but but, for the mostmost,
    Subservient strictly to the external things
    With which it commun'd. communed. An auxiliar light
    Came from my mind mind, which on the setting sun
    Bestow'd Bestowed new splendor, splendour; the melodious birds,
    The gentle fluttering breezes, fountains that ran on,run on
    Murmuring so sweetly in themselves, obey'dobeyed
    A like dominion; dominion, and the midnight storm
    Grew darker in the presence of my eye.eye:
    Hence by my obeisance, my devotion hence,
    And hence my transport.
    Nor should this, perchance,
    Pass unrecorded, that I still have lov'dhad loved
    The exercise and produce of a toiltoil,
    Than analytic industry to me
    More pleasing, and whose character I deem
    Is more poetic as resembling more
    Creative agency. I mean to The song would speak
    Of that interminable building rear'dreared
    By observation of affinities
    In objects where no brotherhood exists
    To common passive minds. My seventeenth year was come
    And, whether from this habit, habit rooted now
    So deeply in my mind, or from excess
    Of In the great social principle of life,life
    Coercing all things into sympathy,
    To unorganic natures I transferr'dwere transferred
    My own enjoyments, or, enjoyments; or the power of truth
    Coming in revelation, I convers'ddid converse
    With things that really are, are; I, at this timetime,
    Saw blessings spread around me like a sea.
    Thus did my while the days pass on, flew by, and now at lengthyears passed on,
    From Nature and her overflowing soulsoul,
    I had receiv'd received so much much, that all my thoughts
    Were steep'd steeped in feeling; I was only then
    Contented Contented, when with bliss ineffable
    I felt the sentiment of Being spread
    O'er all that moves, moves and all that seemeth still,still;
    O'er all, all that, lost beyond the reach of thought
    And human knowledge, to the human eye
    Invisible, yet liveth to the heart,heart;
    O'er all that leaps, leaps and runs, and shouts, shouts and sings,
    Or beats the gladsome air, air; o'er all that glides
    Beneath the wave, yea, in the wave itselfitself,
    And mighty depth of waters. Wonder not
    If such my transports were; for in all thingshigh the transport, great the joy I felt,
    I saw one life, Communing in this sort through earth and felt that heaven
    With every form of creature, as
it was joy.looked
    Towards the Uncreated with a countenance
    Of adoration, with an eye of love.
One song they sang, and it was audible,
    Most audible then audible, then, when the fleshly ear,
    O'ercome by grosser humblest prelude of that strain,strain
    Forgot its her functions, and slept undisturb'd.undisturbed.
    If this be error, and another faith
    Find easier access to the pious mind,
    Yet were I grossly destitute of all
    Those human sentiments which that make this earth
    So dear, if I should fail, fail with grateful voice
    To speak of you, Ye Mountains ye mountains, and Ye Lakes,ye lakes
    And sounding Cataracts! Ye Mists cataracts, ye mists and Windswinds
    That dwell among the hills where I was born.
    If, If in my youth, youth I have been pure in heart,
    If, mingling with the world, I am content
    With my own modest pleasures, and have liv'd,lived
    With God and Nature communing, remov'dremoved
    From little enmities and low desires,
    The gift is yours; if in these times of fear,
    This melancholy waste of hopes o'erthrown,
    If, 'mid indifference and apathy
    And wicked exultation, when good men,
    On every side fall off we know not how,
    To selfishness, disguis'd in gentle names
    Of peace, and quiet, and domestic love,
    Yet mingled, not unwillingly, with sneers
    On visionary minds; if in this time
    Of dereliction and dismay, I yet
    Despair not of our nature; but retain
    A more than Roman confidence, a faith
    That fails not, in all sorrow my support,
    The blessing of my life, the gift is yours,
    Ye mountains! thine, O Nature! Thou hast fed
    My lofty speculations; and in thee,
    For this uneasy heart of ours I find
    A never-failing principle of joy,
    And purest passion.
    The gift is yours; if in these times of fear,
    This melancholy waste of hopes o'erthrown,
    If, 'mid indifference and apathy,
    And wicked exultation when good men
    On every side fall off, we know not how,
    To selfishness, disguised in gentle names
    Of peace and quiet and domestic love
    Yet mingled not unwillingly with sneers
    On visionary minds; if, in this time
    Of dereliction and dismay, I yet
    Despair not of our nature, but retain
    A more than Roman confidence, a faith
    That fails not, in all sorrow my support,
    The blessing of my life the gift is yours,
    Ye winds and sounding cataracts! 'tis yours,
    Ye mountains! thine, O Nature! Thou hast fed
    My lofty speculations; and in thee,
    For this uneasy heart of ours, I find
    A never-failing principle of joy
    And purest passion.

    Thou, my Friend! wert rear'dreared
    In the great City, city, 'mid far other scenes;
    But we, by different roads roads, at length have gain'dgained
    The self-same selfsame bourne. And for this cause to Theethee
    I speak, unapprehensive of contempt,
    The insinuated scoff of coward tongues,
    And all that silent language which so oft
    In conversation betwixt between man and man
    Blots from the human countenance all trace
    Of beauty and of love. For Thou thou hast sought
    The truth in solitude, and Thou art one,and, since the days
    That gave thee liberty, full long desired,
    To serve in Nature's temple, thou hast been
The most intense assiduous of Nature's worshippersher ministers;
    In many things my Brother, brother, chiefly here
    In this my our deep devotion.
    Fare Thee thee well!
    Health, Health and the quiet of a healthful mind
    Attend thee! seeking oft the haunts of men,
    And yet more often living with Thyself,thyself,
    And for Thyself, thyself, so haply shall thy days
    Be many, and a blessing to mankind.