Page:The Prelude, Wordsworth, 1850.djvu/95

BOOK III.] This truth escaped me not, and I confess,

That having 'mid my native hills given loose

To a schoolboy's vision, I had raised a pile

Upon the basis of the coming time,

That fell in ruins round me. Oh, what joy

To see a sanctuary for our country's youth

Informed with such a spirit as might be

Its own protection; a primeval grove,

Where, though the shades with cheerfulness were filled,

Nor indigent of songs warbled from crowds

In under-coverts, yet the countenance

Of the whole place should bear a stamp of awe;

A habitation sober and demure

For ruminating creatures; a domain

For quiet things to wander in; a haunt

In which the heron should delight to feed

By the shy rivers, and the pelican

Upon the cypress spire in lonely thought

Might sit and sun himself.—Alas! Alas!

In vain for such solemnity I looked;

Mine eyes were crossed by butterflies, ears vexed

By chattering popinjays; the inner heart

Seemed trivial, and the impresses without

Of a too gaudy region.

Different sight