all
  With kindred matter, ’twas to me, in truth,
  A promise scarcely earthly.  Instantly,
  With one not richer than myself, I made
  A covenant that each should lay aside 470
  The moneys he possessed, and hoard up more,
  Till our joint savings had amassed enough
  To make this book our own.  Through several months,
  In spite of all temptation, we preserved
  Religiously that vow; but firmness failed, 475
  Nor were we ever masters of our wish.

    And when thereafter to my father’s house
  The holidays returned me, there to find
  That golden store of books which I had left,
  What joy was mine!  How often in the course 480
  Of those glad respites, though a soft west wind
  Ruffled the waters to the angler’s wish
  For a whole day together, have I lain
  Down by thy side, O Derwent! murmuring stream,
  On the hot stones, and in the glaring sun, 485
  And there have read, devouring as I read,
  Defrauding the day’s glory, desperate! 
  Till with a sudden bound of smart reproach,
  Such as an idler deals with in his shame,
  I to the sport betook myself again. 490

    A gracious spirit o’er this earth presides,
  And o’er the heart of man:  invisibly
  It comes, to works of unreproved delight,
  And tendency benign, directing those
  Who care not, know not, think not what they do. 495
  The tales that charm away the wakeful night
  In Araby, romances; legends penned
  For solace by dim light of monkish lamps;
  Fictions, for ladies of their love, devised
  By youthful squires; adventures endless, spun 500
  By the dismantled warrior in old age,
  Out of the bowels of those very schemes
  In which his youth did first extravagate;
  These spread like day, and something in the shape
  Of these will live till man shall be no more. 505
  Dumb yearnings, hidden appetites, are ours,
  And they must have their food.  Our childhood sits,
  Our simple childhood, sits upon a throne
  That hath more power than all the elements. 
  I guess not what this tells of Being past, 510
  Nor what it augurs of the life to come; [Q]
  But so it is, and, in that dubious hour,
  That twilight when we first begin to see
  This dawning earth, to recognise, expect,
  And in the long probation that ensues, 515
  The time of trial, ere we learn to live
  In reconcilement with our stinted powers;
  To endure this state of meagre vassalage,
  Unwilling to forego, confess, submit,
  Uneasy and unsettled, yoke-fellows 520
  To custom, mettlesome, and not yet tamed