XXIX.
Darkling he went, nor once applied his ear,
On a loud sea of agitations thrown,
Nature’s low tones and harmonies to hear,
Heard by the calm alone.
XXX.
The merry chirrup of the grasshopper,
Sporting among the roots of withered grass,
The dry leaf rustling to the wind’s light stir
Did each unnoted pass:
XXXI.
He, walking in a trance of selfish care,
Not once observed the beauty shed around,
The blue above, the music in the air,
The flowers upon the ground;
XXXII.
Till from the centre of that forest dim
Came to him such sweet singing of a bird,
As sweet in very truth, then seemed to him
The sweetest ever heard.