If I mistake not. I shall know anon.
Nature herself will teach me how to con
The new-found words to thank the glowing year.
VIII.
This is the path that led me to the brook;
And this the mead, and this the mossy slope,
And this the place where breezes did elope
With giddy moths, enamour'd of a look;
And here I sat alone, or with a book,
Dreaming the dreams of constancy and hope.