Are deeply working in the age.
“For aught we know they now may brood
O’er this enchanted solitude,
With thought and feeling more intense
Than we in the blind life of sense.”...
Those tones are hushed, that light is cold,
And we (but not the world) grow old;
The joy, “the bloom of young desire,”
The zest, the force, the strenuous fire,
Enthusiasms bright, sublime,