THE POETICAL WORKS OF WILLIAM WORDSWORTH - VOL. 2 (Completed)

LINES, [A] COMPOSED A FEW MILES ABOVE TINTERN ABBEY, ON VISITING THE BANKS

But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din

Of towns and cities, I have owed to them,

In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,

Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart;

And passing even into my purer mind, [5]

With tranquil restoration:--feelings too

Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps,

As have no slight or trivial influence [6]

On that best portion of a good man's life,

His little, nameless, unremembered, acts

Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust,

To them I may have owed another gift,

Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood,

In which the burthen of the mystery,

In which the heavy and the weary weight

Of all this unintelligible world,

Is lightened:--that serene and blessed mood,

In which the affections gently lead us on,--

Until, the breath of this corporeal frame

And even the motion of our human blood

Almost suspended, we are laid asleep

In body, and become a living soul:

While with an eye made quiet by the power

Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,

We see into the life of things.

If this Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft--

In darkness and amid the many shapes

Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir

Unprofitable, and the fever of the world,

Have hung upon the beatings of my heart--

How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee,