To lie and listen to the mountain-flood
Murmuring from Glaramara’s inmost caves.”
But I have dwelt too long on this aspect of Poetry, its penetrating power of naturalistic interpretation when the poet,
“With an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony and the deep power of joy,”
is given to see into the life of things, and seeing, makes us share his insight, makes us partakers for a moment at least in
“That blessed mood
In which the burthen of the mystery,
In which the heavy and the weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world