That is the land of lost content,
 I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
 And cannot come again.

XLI

In my own shire, if I was sad
Homely comforters I had: 
The earth, because my heart was sore,
Sorrowed for the son she bore;
And standing hills, long to remain,
Shared their short-lived comrade’s pain. 
And bound for the same bourn as I,
On every road I wandered by,
Trod beside me, close and dear,
The beautiful and death-struck year: 
Whether in the woodland brown
I heard the beechnut rustle down,
And saw the purple crocus pale
Flower about the autumn dale;
Or littering far the fields of May
Lady-smocks a-bleaching lay,
And like a skylit water stood
The bluebells in the azured wood.

Yonder, lightening other loads,
The seasons range the country roads,
But here in London streets I ken
No such helpmates, only men;
And these are not in plight to bear,
If they would, another’s care. 
They have enough as ’tis:  I see
In many an eye that measures me
The mortal sickness of a mind
Too unhappy to be kind. 
Undone with misery, all they can
Is to hate their fellow man;
And till they drop they needs must still
Look at you and wish you ill.

XLII

THE MERRY GUIDE

Once in the wind of morning
 I ranged the thymy wold;
The world-wide air was azure
 And all the brooks ran gold.

There through the dews beside me
 Behold a youth that trod,
With feathered cap on forehead,
 And poised a golden rod.

With mien to match the morning
 And gay delightful guise
And friendly brows and laughter
 He looked me in the eyes.

Oh whence, I asked, and whither? 
 He smiled and would not say,
And looked at me and beckoned
 And laughed and led the way.

And with kind looks and laughter
 And nought to say beside
We two went on together,
 I and my happy guide.

Across the glittering pastures
 And empty upland still
And solitude of shepherds
 High in the folded hill,

By hanging woods and hamlets
 That gaze through orchards down
On many a windmill turning
 And far-discovered town,

With gay regards of promise
 And sure unslackened stride
And smiles and nothing spoken
 Led on my merry guide.

By blowing realms of woodland
 With sunstruck vanes afield
And cloud-led shadows sailing
 About the windy weald,

By valley-guarded granges
 And silver waters wide,
Content at heart I followed
 With my delightful guide.

And like the cloudy shadows
 Across the country blown
We two face on for ever,
 But not we two alone.

With the great gale we journey
 That breathes from gardens thinned,
Borne in the drift of blossoms
 Whose petals throng the wind;