Page:The Prelude, Wordsworth, 1850.djvu/86

64 Had failed, the mind returned into herself;

Yet true it is, that I had made a change

In climate, and my nature's outward coat

Changed also slowly and insensibly.

Full oft the quiet and exalted thoughts

Of loneliness gave way to empty noise

And superficial pastimes; now and then

Forced labour, and more frequently forced hopes;

And, worst of all, a treasonable growth

Of indecisive judgments, that impaired

And shook the mind's simplicity.—And yet

This was a gladsome time. Could I behold—

Who, less insensible than sodden clay

In a sea-river's bed at ebb of tide,

Could have beheld,—with undelighted heart,

So many happy youths, so wide and fair

A congregation in its budding-time

Of health, and hope, and beauty, all at once

So many divers samples from the growth

Of life's sweet season—could have seen unmoved

That miscellaneous garland of wild flowers

Decking the matron temples of a place

So famous through the world? To me, at least,

It was a goodly prospect: for, in sooth,

Though I had learnt betimes to stand unpropped,