like), 220
  A mantle such as Spanish Cavaliers
  Wore in old time.  Her smooth domestic life,
  Affectionate without disquietude,
  Her talk, her business, pleased me; and no less
  Her clear though shallow stream of piety 225
  That ran on Sabbath days a fresher course;
  With thoughts unfelt till now I saw her read
  Her Bible on hot Sunday afternoons,
  And loved the book, when she had dropped asleep
  And made of it a pillow for her head. 230

    Nor less do I remember to have felt,
  Distinctly manifested at this time,
  A human-heartedness about my love
  For objects hitherto the absolute wealth
  Of my own private being and no more:  235
  Which I had loved, even as a blessed spirit
  Or Angel, if he were to dwell on earth,
  Might love in individual happiness. 
  But now there opened on me other thoughts
  Of change, congratulation or regret, 240
  A pensive feeling!  It spread far and wide;
  The trees, the mountains shared it, and the brooks,
  The stars of Heaven, now seen in their old haunts—­
  White Sirius glittering o’er the southern crags,
  Orion with his belt, and those fair Seven, 245
  Acquaintances of every little child,
  And Jupiter, my own beloved star! 
  Whatever shadings of mortality,
  Whatever imports from the world of death
  Had come among these objects heretofore, 250
  Were, in the main, of mood less tender:  strong,
  Deep, gloomy were they, and severe; the scatterings
  Of awe or tremulous dread, that had given way
  In later youth to yearnings of a love
  Enthusiastic, to delight and hope. 255

    As one who hangs down-bending from the side
  Of a slow-moving boat, upon the breast
  Of a still water, solacing himself
  With such discoveries as his eye can make
  Beneath him in the bottom of the deep, 260
  Sees many beauteous sights—­weeds, fishes, flowers. 
  Grots, pebbles, roots of trees, and fancies more,
  Yet often is perplexed and cannot part
  The shadow from the substance, rocks and sky,
  Mountains and clouds, reflected in the depth 265
  Of the clear flood, from things which there abide
  In their true dwelling; now is crossed by gleam
  Of his own image, by a sun-beam now,
  And wavering motions sent he knows not whence,
  Impediments that make his task more sweet; 270
  Such pleasant office have we long pursued
  Incumbent o’er the surface of past time
  With like success, nor often have appeared
  Shapes fairer or less doubtfully discerned
  Than these to which the Tale, indulgent