WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
The Youth., who daily farther from the east Must travel, still is Nature's priest,
And by the vision splendid
Is on his way attended;
At length the Man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day.
Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own; Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, And, even with something of a mother's mind,
And no unworthy aim, The homely nurse doth all she can To make her foster-child, her inmate Man,
Forget the glories he hath known, And that imperial palace whence he came.
Behold the Child among his new-born blisses, A MX years' darling of a pigmy size' See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies, Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, With light upon him from his father's eyes' Sec, at his feet, some little plan or chart, Some fragment from his dream of human life, Shaped by himself with newly-1 earned art; A wedding or a festival, A mourning or a funeral;
And this hath now his heart, And unto this he frames his song-
Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues of business, love, or strife; But it will not be long Ere this be thrown aside, And with new joy and pride
�� �
