Page:The Recluse, Wordsworth, 1888.djvu/55

Rh The inmates not unworthy of their home,

The Dwellers of their Dwelling.

And if this

Were otherwise, we have within ourselves

Enough to fill the present day with joy,

And overspread the future years with hope,

Our beautiful and quiet home, enriched

Already with a stranger whom we love

Deeply, a stranger of our Father's house,

A never-resting Pilgrim of the Sea,

Who finds at last an hour to his content

Beneath our roof. And others whom we love

Will seek us also, Sisters of our hearts,

And one, like them, a Brother of our hearts,

Philosopher and Poet, in whose sight

These mountains will rejoice with open joy.