Page:The Prelude, Wordsworth, 1850.djvu/363

BOOK XIII.] Converse with men, where if we meet a face

We almost meet a friend, on naked heaths

With long long ways before, by cottage bench,

Or well-spring where the weary traveller rests.

Who doth not love to follow with his eye

The windings of a public way? the sight,

Familiar object as it is, hath wrought

On my imagination since the morn

Of childhood, when a disappearing line,

One daily present to my eyes, that crossed

The naked summit of a far-off hill

Beyond the limits that my feet had trod,

Was like an invitation into space

Boundless, or guide into eternity.

Yes, something of the grandeur which invests

The mariner who sails the roaring sea

Through storm and darkness, early in my mind

Surrounded, too, the wanderers of the earth;

Grandeur as much, and loveliness far more.

Awed have I been by strolling Bedlamites;

From many other uncouth vagrants (passed

In fear) have walked with quicker step; but why

Take note of this? When I began to enquire,

To watch and question those I met, and speak