1 A deep distress hath humanized my Soul.
2 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.
3 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.
4 The good old rule
Sufficeth them, the simple plan,
That they should take, who have the power,
And they should keep who can.
5 Come, blessed barrier between day and day,
Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
6 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,
7 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.
8 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.
9 many and many a day he thither went,
And never lifted up a single stone.
10 Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower,
We feel that we are greater than we know.
11 Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room;
12 The Mind of Man—
My haunt, and the main region of my song.
13 I heard among the solitary hills
Low breathings coming after me,
14 In the mind of man,
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things.
15 Choice word and measured phrase, above the reach
Of ordinary men; a stately speech;
Such as grave livers do in Scotland use,
16 The light that never was, on sea or land,
The consecration, and the Poet's dream;
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