Another maid there was, [S] who also shed
  A gladness o’er that season, then to me, 225
  By her exulting outside look of youth
  And placid under-countenance, first endeared;
  That other spirit, Coleridge! who is now
  So near to us, that meek confiding heart,
  So reverenced by us both.  O’er paths and fields 230
  In all that neighbourhood, through narrow lanes
  Of eglantine, and through the shady woods,
  And o’er the Border Beacon, and the waste [T]
  Of naked pools, and common crags that lay
  Exposed on the bare felt, were scattered love, 235
  The spirit of pleasure, and youth’s golden gleam. 
  O Friend! we had not seen thee at that time,
  And yet a power is on me, and a strong
  Confusion, and I seem to plant thee there. 
  Far art thou wandered now in search of health 240
  And milder breezes,—­melancholy lot! [U]
  But thou art with us, with us in the past,
  The present, with us in the times to come. 
  There is no grief, no sorrow, no despair,
  No languor, no dejection, no dismay, 245
  No absence scarcely can there be, for those
  Who love as we do.  Speed thee well! divide
  With us thy pleasure; thy returning strength,
  Receive it daily as a joy of ours;
  Share with us thy fresh spirits, whether gift 250
  Of gales Etesian or of tender thoughts. [V]

    I, too, have been a wanderer; but, alas! 
  How different the fate of different men. 
  Though mutually unknown, yea nursed and reared
  As if in several elements, we were framed 255
  To bend at last to the same discipline,
  Predestined, if two beings ever were,
  To seek the same delights, and have one health,
  One happiness.  Throughout this narrative,
  Else sooner ended, I have borne in mind 260
  For whom it registers the birth, and marks the growth,
  Of gentleness, simplicity, and truth,
  And joyous loves, that hallow innocent days
  Of peace and self-command.  Of rivers, fields,
  And groves I speak to thee, my Friend! to thee, 265
  Who, yet a liveried schoolboy, in the depths
  Of the huge city, [W] on the leaded roof
  Of that wide edifice, [X] thy school and home,
  Wert used to lie and gaze upon the clouds
  Moving in heaven; or, of that pleasure tired, 270
  To shut thine eyes, and by internal light
  See trees, and meadows, and thy native stream, [Y]
  Far distant, thus beheld from year to year
  Of a long exile.  Nor could I forget,
  In this late portion of my argument, 275
  That scarcely, as my term of pupilage
  Ceased, had I left those academic bowers
  When thou wert thither guided. [Z] From