The intellectual power, through words and things, Went sounding on a dim and perilous way!
Everything is tedious when one does not read with the feeling of the Author.
A light to guide, a rod To check the erring, and reprove.
Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretch'd in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The vision and the faculty divine; Yet wanting the accomplishment of verse.
Plain living and high thinking are no more.