Page:Poems and extracts - Wordsworth.djvu/32



In such a heart soft peace will live, Where none of these abound; The greatest blessing heaven does give Or can on earth be found.

Where is that World to which the fancy flies When sleep excludes the Present from our eyes; Whose map no voyager could e'er design, Nor to description its wild parts confine? Yet such a Land of Dreams, we must allow, Who nightly trace it, though we know not how: Unfetter'd by the days obtruded rules. We all enjoy that Paradise of fools; And find a sorrow in resuming sense, Which breaks some free delight, and snatches us from thence.

Rh