XXXII. WITH Ships the sea was sprinkled far and nigh, Some veering up and down, one knew not why. Come like a giant from a haven broad; When will she turn, and whither? She will brook XXXIII. THE world is too much with us; late and soon, We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn ; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn. XXXIV. A VOLANT Tribe of Bards on earth are found, Dust for oblivion! To the solid ground Of nature trusts the Mind that builds for aye; XXXV. 'WEAK is the will of Man, his judgment blind; 'Remembrance persecutes, and Hope betrays; 'Heavy is woe;-and joy, for human-kind, 'A mournful thing, so transient is the blaze!' Thus might he paint our lot of mortal days Who wants the glorious faculty assigned To elevate the more-than-reasoning Mind, And colour life's dark cloud with orient rays. Imagination is that sacred power, Imagination lofty and refined : 'Tis hers to pluck the amaranthine flower XXXVI. How sweet it is, when mother Fancy rocks Tall trees, green arbours, and ground-flowers in flocks; Like a bold Girl, who plays her agile pranks At Wakes and Fairs with wandering Mountebanks,― When she stands cresting the Clown's head, and mocks The crowd beneath her. Verily I think, Such place to me is sometimes like a dream Or map of the whole world: thoughts, link by link, Enter through ears and eyesight, with such gleam Of all things, that at last in fear. I shrink, And leap at once from the delicious stream. |