OFT have I seen at evening by the lake The swans sail past the willow-hooded boat, Where broken light and spreading ripples make A comet-train behind them as they float. I have absorbed great artistry; song has wrought Its magic upon me; often I have come Out of a trance of passionate reading fraught With power of vision to draw the faint hills home. These and their company take me, magic, immense; Yet in the morning equivalent wonders unfold When the sun pours through the breaks in a paling fence To stencil a frosted pavement with jagged gold. |