92 THROUGH GLADE AND MEAD. 
“Whose even-balanced soul, 
From first youth tested up to extreme old age, 
Business could not make dull, nor passion wild ; 
Who saw life steadily, and saw it whole ; 
yet in the pure June night, in the heart of the English 
Lake-district, as he thinks of Wordsworth, who 
“Was a priest to us all 
Of the wonder and bloom of the world, 
Which we saw with his eyes, and were glad,” 
and as he questions mountain and shadow and lake, 
whether the charm, the grace, the beauty, the romance 
that we feel are in them or in the poet’s voice, which 
reveals. what they are, he can hear the voice of Nature 
herself reply: 
“Loveliness, magic and grace, 
They are here! they are set in the world, 
They abide ; and the finest of souls 
Hath not been thrill’d by them all, 
Nor the dullest been dead to them quite. 
The poet who sings them may die, 
But they are immortal and live, 
For they are the life of the world.” 
He, too, realizes that 
“Nature is fresh as of old, 
Is lovely ;” 
