Page:The Recluse, Wordsworth, 1888.djvu/15

Rh And not feel motions there? He thought of clouds

That sail on winds: of breezes that delight

To play on water, or in endless chase

Pursue each other through the yielding plain

Of grass or corn, over and through and through,

In billow after billow, evermore

Disporting—nor unmindful was the boy

Of sunbeams, shadows, butterflies and birds;

Of fluttering sylphs and softly-gliding Fays,

Genii, and winged angels that are Lords

Without restraint of all which they behold.

The illusion strengthening as he gazed, he felt

That such unfettered liberty was his,

Such power and joy; but only for this end,

To flit from field to rock, from rock to field,

From shore to island, and from isle to shore,