ON NATURE'S INVITATION DO I COME
Her voice was like a hidden bird that sang; The thought of her was like a flash of light, Or an unseen companionship; a breath Or fragrance independent of the wind. In all my goings, in the new and old Of all my meditations, and in this Favourite of all, in this the most of all. Embrace me then, ye hills, and close me in. Now in the clear and open day I feel Your guardianship: I take it to my heart; "T is like the solemn shelter of the night. But I would call thee beautiful; for mild And soft, and gay, and beautiful thou art, Dear valley, having in thy face a smile, Though peaceful, full of gladness. Thou art pleased, Pleased with thy crags, and woody steeps, thy lake, Its one green island, and its winding shores, The multitude of little rocky hills,
Thy church, and cottages of mountain stone Clustered like stars some few, but single most, And lurking dimly in their shy retreats, Or glancing at each other cheerful looks Like separated stars with clouds between.
ONCE to the verge of yon steep barrier came` A roving school-boy; what the adventurer's age Hath now escaped his memory - but the hour, One of a golden summer holiday,
He well remembers, though the year be gone - Alone and devious from afar he came; And, with a sudden influx overpowered At sight of this seclusion, he forgot
His haste, for hasty had his footsteps been As boyish his pursuits; and sighing said, "What happy fortune were it here to live! And, if a thought of dying, if a thought Of mortal separation, could intrude With paradise before him, here to die!" No Prophet was he, had not even a hope, Scarcely a wish, but one bright pleasing thought, A fancy in the heart of what might be
The lot of others, never could be his.
The station whence he looked was soft and green,
Not giddy yet aerial, with a depth Of vale below, a height of hills above. For rest of body perfect was the spot, All that luxurious nature could desire;
But stirring to the spirit; who could gaze
And not feel motions there? He thought of clouds That sail on winds: of breezes that delight
To play on water, or in endless chase
Pursue each other through the yielding plain Of grass or corn, over and through and through, In billow after billow, evermore
nor unmindful was the boy
Of sunbeams, shadows, butterflies and birds; Of fluttering sylphs and softly-gliding Fays, Genii, and winged angels that are Lords Without restraint of all which they behold. The illusion strengthening as he gazed, he felt That such unfettered liberty was his, Such power and joy; but only for this end, To flit from field to rock, from rock to field,' From shore to island, and from isle to shore, From open ground to covert, from a bed Of meadow-flowers into a tuft of wood; From high to low, from low to high, yet still Within the bound of this huge concave; here Must be his home, this valley be his world.
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