Page:The Prelude, Wordsworth, 1850.djvu/347

BOOK XII.] To measured admiration, or to aught

That should preclude humility and love?

I felt, observed, and pondered; did not judge,

Yea, never thought of judging; with the gift

Of all this glory filled and satisfied.

And afterwards, when through the gorgeous Alps

Roaming, I carried with me the same heart:

In truth, the degradation—howsoe'er

Induced, effect, in whatsoe'er degree,

Of custom that prepares a partial scale

In which the little oft outweighs the great;

Or any other cause that hath been named;

Or lastly, aggravated by the times

And their impassioned sounds, which well might make

The milder minstrelsies of rural scenes

Inaudible—was transient; I had known

Too forcibly, too early in my life,

Visitings of imaginative power

For this to last: I shook the habit off

Entirely and for ever, and again

In Nature's presence stood, as now I stand,

A sensitive being, a creative soul.

There are in our existence spots of time,

That with distinct pre-eminence retain