The child is father of the man: And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
I listened, motionless and still; And, as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore, Long after it was heard no more.
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns.
The best of what we do and are, Just God, forgive!
... and we shall find A pleasure in the dimness of the stars.
Choice word and measured phrase above the reach Of ordinary men.