In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay Tribute to ease; and, of its joy secure, The heart luxuriates with indifferent things, Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones, And on the vacant air.
One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can.
And fade into the light of common day.
Stern Daughter of the Voice of God! O Duty! if that name thou love, Who art a light to guide, a rod To check the erring, and reprove;
The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.
For the discerning intellect of Man, When wedded to this goodly universe In love and holy passion, shall find these A simple produce of the common day. MI, long before the blissful hour arrives, Would chant, in lonely peace, the spousal verse Of this great consummation—
With an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.
my brain Worked with a dim and undetermined sense Of unknown modes of being; o'er my thoughts There hung a darkness, call it solitude Or blank desertion.
With all its solemn imagery, its rocks, Its woods, and that uncertain heaven, received Into the bosom of the steady lake.
he had been alone Amid the heart of many thousand mists,