Embathed in beauty pass'd before my sight, Like blossoms that with sunlight shut and ope, The half-lost dreams of many a holiday, In boyhood spent on that blue river side With those whose names, even now, as alien sounds Ring in the ear, though then our cordial arms Enwreathed each other's necks, while on we roam'd, Singing or silent, pranksome, never at rest, As life were but a jocund pilgrimage, Whose pleasant wanderings found a goal in heaven. But when I reach'd a winding of the stream, By hazels overarch'd, whose swollen nuts Hung in rich clusters, from his marginal bank Of yellow sand, ribb'd by receding waves, I scared the ousel, that, like elfin sprite, Amid the water-lilies lithe and green, Zig-zagg'd from stone to stone; and, turning round The sudden jut, reveal'd before me stood, Silent, within that solitary place-- In that green solitude so calm and deep-- An aged angler, plying wistfully, Amid o'erhanging banks and shelvy rocks, Far from the bustle and the din of men, His sinless pastime. Silver were his locks, His figure lank; his dark eye, like a hawk's, Glisten'd beneath his hat of whitest straw, Lightsome of wear, with flies and gut begirt: The osier creel, athwart his shoulders slung, Became full well his coat of velveteen, Square-tail'd, four-pocket'd, and worn for years, As told by weather stains. His quarter-boots, Lash'd with stout leather thongs, and ankles bare, Spoke the adept--and of full many a day, Through many a changeable and checquer'd year, By mountain torrent, or smooth meadow stream, To that calm sport devoted. O'er him spread A tall, broad sycamore; and, at his feet, Amid the yellow ragwort, rough and high, An undisturbing spaniel lay, whose lids, Half-opening, told his master my approach. IV. I turn'd away, I could not bear to gaze On that grey angler with his rod and line; I turn'd away--for to my heart the sight Brought back, from out the twilight labyrinth Of bypast things, the memory of a day, So sever'd from the present by the lapse Of many a motley'd, life-destroying year, That on my thoughts the recognition came Faintly at first--as breaks the timid dawn Above the sea, or evening's earliest star Through the pavilion of the twilight dim-- Faintly at first--then kindling to the glow Of that refulgent sunshine, only known To boyhood's careless and unclouded hours. V.