Fresh feelings unrepressed, welling from the heart spontaneous,
Facts, and comparisons, and meditative atoms, gathered on the heap of combination,
Mingle in the fashion of my speech with gossamer dreams of Reverie.
I need not beat the underwood for game; my pheasants flock upon the lawn,
And gamboling hares disport fearless in my dewy field;
I roam no heath-empurpled hills, wearily watching for a covey,
But thoughts fly swift to my decoy, eager to be caught;
I sit no quiet angler, lingering patiently for sport,
But spread my nets for a draught, and take the glittering shoal;
I chase no solitary stag, tracking it with breathless toil,