Page:Poems by William Wordsworth (1815) Volume 2.djvu/348

340 Farewell, farewell the Heart that lives alone,

Housed in a dream, at distance from the Kind!

Such happiness, wherever it be known,

Is to be pitied; for 'tis surely blind.

But welcome fortitude, and patient cheer,

And frequent sights of what is to be born!

Such sights, or worse, as are before me here.—

Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.