I am lost, but see In simple childhood something of the base On which thy greatness stands; but this I feel, 275 That from thyself it comes, that thou must give, Else never canst receive.

The days gone by Return upon me almost from the dawn Of life: the hiding-places of man's power Open; I would approach them, but they close.

280 I see by glimpses now; when age comes on, May scarcely see at all; and I would give, While yet we may, as far as words can give, Substance and life to what I feel, enshrining, Such is my hope, the spirit of the Past 285 For future restoration .-- Yet another Of these memorials;-- One Christmas-time, [F] On the glad eve of its dear holidays, Feverish, and tired, and restless, I went forth Into the fields, impatient for the sight 290 Of those led palfreys that should bear us home; My brothers and myself.

There rose a crag, That, from the meeting-point of two highways [F] Ascending, overlooked them both, far stretched; Thither, uncertain on which road to fix 295 My expectation, thither I repaired, Scout-like, and gained the summit; 'twas a day Tempestuous, dark, and wild, and on the grass I sate half-sheltered by a naked wall; Upon my right hand couched a single sheep, 300 Upon my left a blasted hawthorn stood; With those companions at my side, I watched, Straining my eyes intensely, as the mist Gave intermitting prospect of the copse And plain beneath.

Ere we to school returned,--305 That dreary time,--ere we had been ten days Sojourners in my father's house, he died, And I and my three brothers, orphans then, Followed his body to the grave.