And, as I mounted up the hill,

The music in my heart I bore,

Long after it was heard no more.

SKATING AT NIGHT.

[From the Prelude.]

So through the darkness and the cold we flew,

And not a voice was idle; with the din

Smitten, the precipices rang aloud;

The leafless trees and every icy crag

Tinkled like iron; while far distant hills