Of feeling, which were cheerless and forlorn But few weeks past, and would be so again 435 Were we not here; we do not tend a lamp Whose lustre we alone participate, Which shines dependent upon us alone, Mortal though bright, a dying, dying flame. Look where we will, some human hand has been 440 Before us with its offering; not a tree Sprinkles these little pastures but the same Hath furnished matter for a thought; perchance, For some one, serves as a familiar friend. Joy spreads, and sorrow spreads; and this whole Vale, 445 Home of untutored shepherds as it is, Swarms with sensation, as with gleams of sunshine, Shadows or breezes, scents or sounds. Nor deem These feelings, though subservient more than ours To every day’s demand for daily bread, 450 And borrowing more their spirit, and their shape From self-respecting interests, deem them not Unworthy therefore, and unhallowed: no, They lift the animal being, do themselves By Nature’s kind and ever-present aid 455 Refine the selfishness from which they spring, Redeem by love the individual sense Of anxiousness with which they are combined. And thus it is that fitly they become Associates in the joy of purest minds, 460 They blend therewith congenially: meanwhile, Calmly they breathe their own undying life Through this their mountain sanctuary. Long, Oh long may it remain inviolate, Diffusing health and sober cheerfulness, 465 And giving to the moments as they pass Their little boons of animating thought That sweeten labour, make it seen and felt To be no arbitrary weight imposed, But a glad function natural to man. 470 Fair proof of this, newcomer though I be, Already have I gained. The inward frame Though slowly opening, opens every day With process not unlike to that which cheers A pensive stranger, journeying at his leisure 475 Through some Helvetian dell, when low-hung mists Break up, and are beginning to recede; How pleased he is where thin and thinner grows The veil, or where it parts at once, to spy The dark pines thrusting forth their spiky heads; 480 To watch the spreading lawns with cattle grazed, Then to be greeted by the scattered huts, As they shine out; and _see_ the streams whose murmur Had soothed his ear while _they_ were hidden: how pleased To have about him, which way e’er he goes, 485 Something on every side concealed from view, In every quarter something visible, Half-seen or wholly, lost and found again, Alternate progress and impediment, And yet a growing prospect in the main. 490