“He is by nature ledTo peace so perfect that the young beholdWith envy, what the old man hardly feels.”

“My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky:So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die!The Child is father of the Man;And I could wish my days to beBound each to each by natural piety.”

“What is a Poet? He is a man speaking to men: a man, it is true, endued with more lively sensibility, more enthusiasm and tenderness, who has a greater knowledge of human nature, and a more comprehensive soul, than are supposed to be common among mankind; a man pleased with his own passions and volitions, and who rejoices more than other men in the spirit of life that is in him; delighting to contemplate similar volitions and passions as manifested in the goings-on of the universe, and habitually impelled to create them where he does not find them.”

“This son of his old age was yet more dear— Less from instinctive tenderness, the same Fond spirit that blindly works in the blood of all— 145Than that a child, more than all other gifts That earth can offer to declining man, Brings hope with it, and forward-looking thoughts, And stirrings of inquietude, when they By tendency of nature needs must fail.”

“The child is father of the man: And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. ”

“Imagination! lifting up itselfBefore the eye and progress of my SongLike and unfather'd vapour; here that PowerIn all the might of its endowments, cameAthwart me; I was lost as in a cloud,Halted without a struggle to break through,And now recovering to my Soul I sayI recognize they glory; in such strengthOf usurpation, in such visitingsOf awful promise, when the light of senseGoes out in flashes that have shewn to usThe invisible world, doth Greatness make abodeThere harbours whether we be young or old. Our destiny, our nature, and our homeIs with infinitude, and only there;With hope it is, hope that can never die,Effort, and expectation, and desire,And something evermore about to be.”

“Bliss it was in that dawn to be aliveBut to be young was very heaven.”