A hundred times when, roving high and low 110
  I have been harassed with the toil of verse,
  Much pains and little progress, and at once
  Some lovely Image in the song rose up
  Full-formed, like Venus rising from the sea;
  Then have I darted forwards to let 115
  My hand upon his back with stormy joy,
  Caressing him again and yet again. 
  And when at evening on the public way
  I sauntered, like a river murmuring
  And talking to itself when all things 120
  Are still, the creature trotted on before;
  Such was his custom; but whene’er he met
  A passenger approaching, he would turn
  To give me timely notice, and straightway,
  Grateful for that admonishment, I 125
  My voice, composed my gait, and, with the air
  And mien of one whose thoughts are free, advanced
  To give and take a greeting that might save
  My name from piteous rumours, such as wait
  On men suspected to be crazed in brain. 130

  Those walks well worthy to be prized and loved—­
  Regretted!—­that word, too, was on my tongue,
  But they were richly laden with all good,
  And cannot be remembered but with thanks
  And gratitude, and perfect joy of heart—­135
  Those walks in all their freshness now came back
  Like a returning Spring.  When first I made
  Once more the circuit of our little lake,
  If ever happiness hath lodged with man,
  That day consummate happiness was mine, 140
  Wide-spreading, steady, calm, contemplative. 
  The sun was set, or setting, when I left
  Our cottage door, and evening soon brought on
  A sober hour, not winning or serene,
  For cold and raw the air was, and untuned; 145
  But as a face we love is sweetest then
  When sorrow damps it, or, whatever look
  It chance to wear, is sweetest if the heart
  Have fulness in herself; even so with me
  It fared that evening.  Gently did my soul 150
  Put off her veil, and, self-transmuted, stood
  Naked, as in the presence of her God. 
  While on I walked, a comfort seemed to touch
  A heart that had not been disconsolate: 
  Strength came where weakness was not known to be, 155
  At least not felt; and restoration came
  Like an intruder knocking at the door
  Of unacknowledged weariness.  I took
  The balance, and with firm hand weighed myself. 
—­Of that external scene which round me lay, 160
  Little, in this abstraction, did I see;
  Remembered less; but I had inward hopes
  And swellings of the spirit, was rapt and soothed,
  Conversed with promises, had glimmering views
  How life pervades the undecaying mind;