The all in every part: why was the sight
To such a tender ball as the eye confined,
So obvious and so easy to be quenched?”
—for he himself, in his own person, experienced this deprivation, and he thus touchingly, in his great work, laments his loss:
“Thus with the year
Seasons return; but not to me returns
Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn,
Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer’s rose,
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine;
But cloud instead, and ever-during dark