On this hint our great meditative poet speaks, and speaks most tenderly and truly:—
"In youth from rock to rock I went,
From hill to hill, in discontent
Of pleasure high and turbulent,
Most pleased when most uneasy;
But now my own delights I make,—
My thirst at every rill can slake,
And gladly Nature's love partake
Of thee, sweet daisy!...
"By violets in their secret mews