Page:The Recluse, Wordsworth, 1888.djvu/50

38 Upon one tree, while all the distant grove,

That rises to the summit of the steep,

Shows like a mountain built of silver light:

See yonder the same pageant, and again

Behold the universal imagery

Inverted, all its sun-bright features touched

As with the varnish and the gloss of dreams.

Dreamlike the blending also of the whole

Harmonious landscape: all along the shore

The boundary lost—the line invisible

That parts the image from reality;

And the clear hills, as high as they ascend

Heavenward, so deep piercing the lake below.

Admonished of the days of love to come

The raven croaks, and fills the upper air

With a strange sound of genial harmony;