But why in dream of this enchanted mood Should all my boyhood seem a solitude? Good reason know I, when I wander there, In that transmuted scene, why all is fair; The woods as when in holiday of spring Million buds burst, and flowers are blossoming; The meadows deep in grass, the fields unshorn In beauty of the multitudinous corn, Where the strait alleys hide me, wall'd between High bloomy stalks and rustling banners green; The gardens, too, in dazzling hues full-blown, With wafted scent and blazing petals strewn; The orchards reddening thro' the patient hours, While idle autumn in his mossy bowers Inviteth meditation to endear The sanctuaries of the mellowing year; And every spot wherein I loved to stray Hath borrowed radiance of eternal day; But why am I ever alone, alone? Here in the corner of a field my throne, Now in the branching chair of some tall tree Drinking the gale in bird-like liberty; Or to the seashore wandered in the sun To watch the fateful waves break one by one; Or if on basking downs supine I lie Bathing my spirit in blue calms of the sky; Or to the river bank am stolen by night Hearkening unto the moonlit ripple bright That warbles o'er the shallows of smooth stone; Why should my memory find me all alone, When I had such companions every day Jocund and dear? 'Twixt glimpses of their play 'Tis a vast solitude, wherein I see Only myself and what I came to be. Yet never think, dear spirits, if now ye may Remember aught of that brief earthly day, Ere ye the mournful Stygian river crost, From our familiar home too early lost,-- O never think that I your tears forget, Or that I loved not well, or love not yet. Nor ye who held my heart in passion's chain,-- As kings and queens succeed in glorious reign-- When, as a man, I made you to outvie God's work, and, as a god, then set you by Among the sainted throng in holiest shrine Of mythic creed and poetry divine; True was my faith, and still your loves endure, The jewels of my fancy, bright and pure.