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often in some vexed or restless mood
 * Have I gone forth to nature, seeking there
 * Surcease from wounded pride or petty care,

And thought the flowing stream or shady wood And large, impartial calms of solitude
 * Would be as arms unseen to lift me where
 * My soul should catch a loftier, purer air—

But O, how little have I understood!

For not by doors of nature or of sense,
 * However fair, however dear they be,

Has come that deep desirèd influence
 * That most reveals and proves myself to me;

There is a narrower pathway leading hence
 * For him who would from tyrant self be free.