... and, evermore,
Instead of Nature's fair variety,
Her ample scope of hill and dale, of clouds
And the blue sky, the same short span of earth
Is all his prospect. When the little birds
Flit over him, if their quick shadows strike
Across his path, he does not lift his head
Like one whose thoughts have been unsettled. So
Brow-bent, his eyes for ever ...

[return]

[Variant 6:]

1827
And never ...1800

And never ...

[return]

[Variant 7:]

1800
... his slow footsteps scarce MS.

... his slow footsteps scarce

[return]