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    Influence of Natural Objects

    by William Wordsworth
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    In Calling Forth and Strengthening the Imagination
    in Boyhood and Early Youth

    Wisdom and Spirit of the Universe!
    Thou Soul, that art the Eternity of thought!
    And giv'st to forms and images a breath
    And everlasting motion! not in vain,
    By day or star-light, thus from my first dawn
    Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me
    The passions that build up our human soul,
    Not with the mean and vulgar works of man,
    But with high objects, with enduring things,
    With life and nature; purifying thus
    The elements of feeling and of thought,
    And sanctifying by such discipline
    Both pain and fear, -until we recognize
    A grandeur in the beatings of the heart.
    Nor was this fellowship vouchsafed to me
    With stinted kindness. In November days,
    When vapours rolling down the valleys made
    A lonely scene more lonesome; among woods
    At noon; and mid the calm of summer nights,
    When, by the margin of the trembling Lake,
    Beneath the gloomy hills, I homeward went
    In solitude, such intercourse was mine:
    'Twas mine among the fields both day and night,
    And by the waters, all the summer long.
    And in the frosty season, when the sun
    Was set, and, visible for many a mile,
    The cottage windows through the twilight blazed,
    I heeded not the summons: -happy time
    It was indeed for all of us; for me

    It was a time of rapture! -Clear and loud
    The village clock tolled six -I wheeled about,
    Proud and exulting like an untired horse
    That cares not for his home. -All shod with steel
    We hissed along the polished ice, in games
    Confederate, imitative of the chase
    And woodland pleasures, -the resounding horn,
    The pack loud-bellowing, and the hunted hare.
    So through the darkness and the cold we flew,
    And not a voice was idle: with the din
    Meanwhile the precipices rang aloud;
    The leafless trees and every icy crag
    Tinkled like iron; while the distant hills
    Into the tumult sent an alien sound
    Of melancholy, not unnoticed, while the stars,
    Eastward, were sparkling clear, and in the west
    The orange sky of evening died away.

    Not seldom from the uproar I retired
    Into a silent bay, -or sportively
    Glanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous throng,
    To cut across the reflex of a Star;
    Image that, flying still before me, gleamed
    Upon the glassy plain: and oftentimes,
    When we had given our bodies to the wind,
    And all the shadowy banks on either side
    Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still
    The rapid line of motion, then at once
    Have I, reclining back upon my heels,
    Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffs
    Wheeled by me -even as if the earth had rolled
    With visible motion her diurnal round!
    Behind me did they stretch in solemn train,
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