Page:The Prelude, Wordsworth, 1850.djvu/113

BOOK IV.] If ever happiness hath lodged with man,

That day consummate happiness was mine,

Wide-spreading, steady, calm, contemplative.

The sun was set, or setting, when I left

Our cottage door, and evening soon brought on

A sober hour, not winning or serene,

For cold and raw the air was, and untuned;

But as a face we love is sweetest then

When sorrow damps it, or, whatever look

It chance to wear, is sweetest if the heart

Have fulness in herself; even so with me

It fared that evening. Gently did my soul

Put off her veil, and, self-transmuted, stood

Naked, as in the presence of her God.

While on I walked, a comfort seemed to touch

A heart that had not been disconsolate:

Strength came where weakness was not known to be,

At least not felt; and restoration came

Like an intruder knocking at the door

Of unacknowledged weariness. I took

The balance, and with firm hand weighed myself.

—Of that external scene which round me lay,

Little, in this abstraction, did I see;

Remembered less; but I had inward hopes

And swellings of the spirit, was rapt and soothed,