Page:The Prelude, Wordsworth, 1850.djvu/323

BOOK XI.] And stuff at hand, plastic as they could wish,—

Were called upon to exercise their skill,

Not in Utopia,—subterranean fields,—

Or some secreted island, Heaven knows where!

But in the very world, which is the world

Of all of us,—the place where, in the end,

We find our happiness, or not at all!

Why should I not confess that Earth was then

To me, what an inheritance, new-fallen,

Seems, when the first time visited, to one

Who thither comes to find in it his home?

He walks about and looks upon the spot

With cordial transport, moulds it and remoulds,

And is half pleased with things that are amiss,

'Twill be such joy to see them disappear.

An active partisan, I thus convoked

From every object pleasant circumstance

To suit my ends; I moved among mankind

With genial feelings still predominant;

When erring, erring on the better part,

And in the kinder spirit; placable,

Indulgent, as not uninformed that men

See as they have been taught—Antiquity