XII
Of these thou art. And, Wordsworth, it is not
That thou hast missed man’s feverish heritage.
Strange passions thou hast known, and noble rage,
Nor in Romance an anodyne hast sought.
And if to souls in trouble thou hast brought
Strength and relief, ’tis not thy sauntering page,
Nor oft-times common theme that doth assuage
The anguish of the spirit overwrought.
Rather it is that, deeply moved, thou sink’st
Deeply in nature’s homeliness, thy rime
Plain as her face; but, stooping as thou drink’st,
The eternal from beyond the hills of Time
Is on thee ere thou know’st it, and thou link’st
Thy being with it, suddenly sublime.
Hesepe, 31st May