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| Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first
I came among these hills; when like a roe I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, Wherever nature led; more like a man Flying from something that he dreads, than one Who sought the thing he loved. For Nature then (The coaser pleasures of my boyish days, And their glad animal movements all gone by) To me was all in all.---I cannot paint What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion; the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep gloomy wood, Their colors and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.---That time is past ~~~William Wordsworth~~~ |