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....
Like Klopstock, he delighted in sledging
while the stars
Eastward were sparkling bright, and in the west
The orange sky of evening died away.
Far more characteristic of the man is the confession in Tintern Abbey: