Our meddling intellect Misshapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect

Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither.

Our meddling intellect Misshapes the beauteous forms of things We murder to dissect

A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.

But hushed be every thought that springs From out the bitterness of things.

Laying out grounds may be considered a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting.

Choice word and measured phrase above the reach Of ordinary men.