Page:The Prelude, Wordsworth, 1850.djvu/217

BOOK VII.] This pretty Shepherd, pride of all the plains,

To rule and guide his captivated flock.

I glance but at a few conspicuous marks,

Leaving a thousand others, that, in hall,

Court, theatre, conventicle, or shop,

In public room or private, park or street,

Each fondly reared on his own pedestal,

Looked out for admiration. Folly, vice,

Extravagance in gesture, mien, and dress,

And all the strife of singularity,

Lies to the ear, and lies to every sense—

Of these, and of the living shapes they wear,

There is no end. Such candidates for regard,

Although well pleased to be where they were found,

I did not hunt after, nor greatly prize,

Nor made unto myself a secret boast

Of reading them with quick and curious eye;

But, as a common produce, things that are

To-day, to-morrow will be, took of them

Such willing note, as, on some errand bound

That asks not speed, a Traveller might bestow

On sea-shells that bestrew the sandy beach,

Or daisies swarming through the fields of June.