Page:Poems and extracts - Wordsworth.djvu/35

 Which but endures while tyrant man does sleep: When a sedate content the spirit feels, And no fierce light disturbs whilst it reveals; But silent musings urge the mind to seek Something too high for syllables to speak; 'Till the free soul to a compos'edness charm'd. Finding the elements of rage disarmed, O'er all below a solemn quiet grown, Joys in the inferior world, and thinks it like her own:— In such a night let me abroad remain. Till morning breaks and all 's confus'd again; Our cares, our toils, our clamours are renewed, Our pleasures, seldom reach'd, again pursued.

Rh