“THOSE WORDS WERE UTTERED AS IN PENSIVE MOOD”

Thosewords were uttered as in pensive mood

We turned, departing fromthat solemn sight:

A contrast and reproach togross delight,

And life's unspiritual pleasures daily wooed!

But now upon this thought I cannot brood;

It is unstable as a dream of night;

Nor will I praise a cloud, however bright,

Disparaging Man's gifts, and proper food.

Grove, isle, with every shape of sky-built dome,

Though clad in colours beautiful and pure,

Find in the heart of man no natural home:

The immortal Mind craves objects that endure:

These cleave to it; from these it cannot roam,

Nor they from it: their fellowship is secure.