As is a landscape to a blind man's eye:
But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din 25
Of towns and cities, I have owed to them
In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,
Felt in the blood, and felt along the
heart;

And passing even into my purer mind,
With tranquil restoration:-feelings too 30
Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps,
As have no slight or trivial influence
On that best portion of a good man's life,
His little, nameless, unremembered acts
Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust,
To them I may have owed another gift, 36
Of aspect more sublime; that blessed
mood,

In which the burthen of the mystery,

Is lightened: that serene and blessed mood

In which the affections gently lead us on,-
Until, the breath of this corporeal frame
And even the motion of our human blood
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep 45
In body, and become a living soul:
While with an eye made quiet by the
power

Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.

If this Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft- 50 In darkness and amid the many shapes Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart

How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, 55 O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer through the woods,

How often has my spirit turned to thee! And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought,

That had no need of a remoter charm,
By thought supplied, nor any interest
Unborrowed from the eye. That time is
past,

And all its aching joys are now no more,
And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this 85
Faint I, nor mourn, nor murmur; other
gifts

Have followed; for such loss, I would believe,

100

The language of my former heart, and read

My former pleasures in the shooting lights Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while May I behold in thee what I was once, 120 My dear, dear sister! and this prayer I make,

Knowing that Nature never did betray

learned

Through all the years of this our life, to

lead

From joy to joy: for she can so inform 125 The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed

Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime, 95 Of something far more deeply interfused, Whose dwelling is the light of setting

suns,

And the round ocean and the living air,

And the blue sky, and in the mind of man;

all

130

The dreary intercourse of daily life,
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb
Our cheerful faith, that all which we be-
hold

Is full of blessings. Therefore let the

moon