Save of the river and my pleasant home, I knew not then the names and history Borne by these visions; but upon my brain Their forms were graved in lines indelible As, on the rocks beneath my feet, the prints Of life in its first motion. Later years Renewed the picture, and its outlines filled With fair associations,--wrought the past And living present into fadeless wreaths That crowned each mound and mount, and town and tower, The king of teeming memories. Nor could I guess with faintest foresight of the life Which, in the years before me, I should weave Of mingled threads of pleasure and of pain Into these scenes, until not one of all Could meet my eye, or touch my memory, Without recalling an experience That drank the sweetest ichor of my veins Or crowded them with joy. At length I turned From the wide survey, and with pleased surprise Detected, nestling at the mountain's foot, The cottage I had left; and, on the lawn, Two forms of life that flitted to and fro. I knew that they had missed me; so I sought The passage I had climbed, and, with the lamb Still fastened to my wrist, I hasted down. Full of the marvels of the hour I sped, Leaping from rock to rock, or flying swift The smoother slopes, with arms half wings, and feet That only guarded the descent, the while My captive led me captive at his will. So tense the strain of sinew, so intense The mood and motion, that before I guessed, The headlong flight was finished, and I walked, Jaded and reeking, in the level path That led the lambkin home. My mother saw, And ran to meet me: then for long, still hours, Couched in a dim, cool room, I lay and slept. When I awoke, I found her at my side, Fanning my face, and ready with her smile And soothing words to greet me. Then I told, With youthful volubility and wild Extravagance of figure and of phrase, The morning's exploit. First she questioned me But, as I wrought each scene and circumstance Into consistent form, she drank my words In eager silence; and within her eyes I saw the glow of pride which gravity And show of deep concern could not disguise, I read her bosom better than she knew. I saw that she had made discovery Of something unsuspected in her child, And that, by one I loved, and she the best, The fire that burned within me and the power That morning called to life, were recognized.