Shall be a mansion for all lovely Of suffering hath been thoroughly forms, Thy memory be as a dwelling-place For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh, then, If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief, Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts Of tender joy wilt thou remember fortified And go to the grave unthought of. Strongest minds Are often those of whom the noisy world hears least. [From The Excursion.] THE DEAF DALESMAN. ALMOST at the root Of that tall pine, the shadow of whose bare And slender stem, while here I sit at eve, Oft stretches towards me, like a long straight path Traced faintly in the greensward; there beneath A plain blue stone, a gentle dalesman lies, From whom, in early childhood, was withdrawn The precious gift of hearing. He grew up From year to year in loneliness of soul; And this deep mountain valley was to him Soundless, with all its streams. The bird of dawn Did never rouse this cottager from sleep With startling summons; nor for his delight The vernal cuckoo shouted; not for him Murmured the laboring bee. When stormy winds Were working the broad bosom of the lake Into a thousand thousand sparkling waves, Rocking the trees, or driving cloud on cloud Along the sharp edge of yon lofty crags, The agitated scene before his eye Was silent as a picture: evermore Were all things silent, wheresoe'er he moved; Yet, by the solace of his own pure thoughts Upheld, he duteously pursued the round That from the floor of his paternal home He should depart to plant himself anew ; And when, mature in manhood, he beheld His parents laid in earth, no loss ensued Of rights to him; but he remained well pleased, By the pure bond of independent love, An inmate of a second family, Nor deem that his mild presence was a weight That pressed upon his brother's house, for books Were ready comrades whom he could not tire, Of whose society the blameless man Was never satiate. Their familiar voice, Even to old age, with unabated charm Beguiled his leisure hours, refreshed his thoughts; Beyond its natural elevation, raised His introverted spirit, and bestowed Upon his life an outward dignity Which all acknowledged. The dark winter night, The stormy day, had each its own resource; Song of the muses, sage historic tale, And, at the touch of every wander ing breeze, Murmurs, not idly, o'er his peaceful grave. Thus soothed at home, thus busy in FROM "INTIMATIONS OF IMMOR the field, TALITY." But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings; Black misgivings of a creature Moving about in worlds not realized, High instincts, before which our mortal nature There, healthy as a shepherd-boy, Shalt show us how divine a thing Did tremble like a guilty thing sur-Thy thoughts and feelings shall not prised! But for those first affections, Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain light of all our day, Are yet a master light of all our Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal silence: truths that wake, To perish never; die, Nor leave thee when gray hairs are A melancholy slave; THE DAFfodils. I WANDERED lonely as a cloud Which neither listlessness, nor mad When all at once I saw a crowd, endeavor, Nor man nor boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Hence, in a season of calm weather, Which brought us hither; And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore. TO A YOUNG LADY, The waves beside them danced, but Outdid the sparkling waves in glee: I gazed and gazed, but little thought WHO HAD BEEN REPROACHED FOR TAKING LONG What wealth the show to me had |