2. 
He was a mighty poet—­and
A subtle-souled psychologist;
All things he seemed to understand, 380
Of old or new—­of sea or land—­
But his own mind—­which was a mist.

3. 
This was a man who might have turned
Hell into Heaven—­and so in gladness
A Heaven unto himself have earned; 385
But he in shadows undiscerned
Trusted.—­and damned himself to madness.

4. 
He spoke of poetry, and how
’Divine it was—­a light—­a love—­
A spirit which like wind doth blow 390
As it listeth, to and fro;
A dew rained down from God above;

5. 
’A power which comes and goes like dream,
And which none can ever trace—­
Heaven’s light on earth—­Truth’s brightest beam.’ 395
And when he ceased there lay the gleam
Of those words upon his face.

6. 
Now Peter, when he heard such talk,
Would, heedless of a broken pate,
Stand like a man asleep, or balk 400
Some wishing guest of knife or fork,
Or drop and break his master’s plate.

7. 
At night he oft would start and wake
Like a lover, and began
In a wild measure songs to make 405
On moor, and glen, and rocky lake,
And on the heart of man—­

8. 
And on the universal sky—­
And the wide earth’s bosom green,—­
And the sweet, strange mystery 410
Of what beyond these things may lie,
And yet remain unseen.

9. 
For in his thought he visited
The spots in which, ere dead and damned,
He his wayward life had led; 415
Yet knew not whence the thoughts were fed
Which thus his fancy crammed.

10. 
And these obscure remembrances
Stirred such harmony in Peter,
That, whensoever he should please, 420
He could speak of rocks and trees
In poetic metre.

11. 
For though it was without a sense
Of memory, yet he remembered well
Many a ditch and quick-set fence; 425
Of lakes he had intelligence,
He knew something of heath and fell.

12. 
He had also dim recollections
Of pedlars tramping on their rounds;
Milk-pans and pails; and odd collections 430
Of saws, and proverbs; and reflections
Old parsons make in burying-grounds.

13. 
But Peter’s verse was clear, and came
Announcing from the frozen hearth
Of a cold age, that none might tame 435
The soul of that diviner flame
It augured to the Earth: 

14. 
Like gentle rains, on the dry plains,
Making that green which late was gray,
Or like the sudden moon, that stains 440
Some gloomy chamber’s window-panes
With a broad light like day.