Than to the forest hermit are the leaves That hang aloft in myriads--nay, far less, For they protect his walk from sun and shower, Swell his devotion with their voice in storms, 610 And whisper while the stars twinkle among them His lullaby. From crowded streets remote, Far from the living and dead wilderness Of the thronged world, Society is here[372] A true Community, a genuine frame 615 Of many into one incorporate. _That_ must be looked for here, paternal sway, One household under God for high and low, One family, and one mansion; to themselves Appropriate, and divided from the world 620 As if it were a cave, a multitude Human and brute, possessors undisturbed Of this recess, their legislative hall, Their Temple, and their glorious dwelling-place. Dismissing therefore, all Arcadian dreams, 625 All golden fancies of the golden age, The bright array of shadowy thoughts from times That were before all time, or is to be Ere time expire, the pageantry that stirs And will be stirring when our eyes are fixed 630 On lovely objects, and we wish to part With all remembrance of a jarring world, --Take we at once this one sufficient hope, What need of more? that we shall neither droop, Nor pine for want of pleasure in the life 635 Scattered about us, nor through dearth of aught That keeps in health the insatiable mind; That we shall have for knowledge and for love Abundance; and that, feeling as we do How goodly, how exceeding fair, how pure 640 From all reproach is yon ethereal vault, And this deep vale its earthly counterpart, By which, and under which, we are enclosed To breathe in peace, we shall moreover find (If sound, and what we ought to be ourselves, 645 If rightly we observe and justly weigh) The inmates not unworthy of their home The dwellers of their dwelling. And if this Were otherwise, we have within ourselves Enough to fill the present day with joy, 650 And overspread the future years with hope, Our beautiful and quiet home, enriched Already with a stranger whom we love Deeply, a stranger of our father’s house, A never-resting Pilgrim of the Sea,[373] 655 Who finds at last an hour to his content Beneath our roof. And others whom we love Will seek us also, sisters of our hearts,[374] And one, like them, a brother of our hearts, Philosopher and Poet,[375] in whose sight 660 These mountains will rejoice with open joy. --Such is our wealth; O Vale of Peace, we are And must be, with God’s will, a happy band.