Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know.
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,
Come, blessed barrier between day and day, Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies; There's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and man's unconquerable mind.
A deep distress hath humanized my Soul.
The rapt One, of the godlike forehead, The heaven-eyed creature sleeps in earth: And Lamb, the frolic and the gentle, Has vanished from his lonely hearth.
I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous boy, The sleepless soul that perished in his pride; Of him who walked in glory and in joy Following his plough, along the mountain side: By our own spirits are we deified: We poets in our youth begin in gladness; But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.
The good old rule Sufficeth them, the simple plan, That they should take, who have the power, And they should keep who can.
many and many a day he thither went, And never lifted up a single stone.
Caught by the spectacle my mind turned round As with the might of waters; an apt type This label seemed of the utmost we can know, Both of ourselves and of the universe; And, on the shape of that unmoving man, His steadfast face and sightless eyes, I gazed, As if admonished from another world.