O happy living things! no tongue Their beauty might declare: A spring of love gushed from my heart, And I blessed them unaware.

O lady! we receive but what we give And in our life alone does Nature live.

O Lady! we receive but what we give,

O the one life within us and abroad, Which meets all motion and becomes its soul, A light in sound, a sound-like power in light, Rhythm in all thought, and joyance everywhere— Methinks, it should have been impossible Not to love all things in a world so filled.

O Wedding Guest! This soul hath been Alone on a wide wide sea: So lonely ’twas, that God himself Scarce seemèd there to be.

Oh Sleep! it is a gentle thing,

Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole.

On awaking he . . . instantly and eagerly wrote down the lines that are here preserved. At this moment he was unfortunately called out by a person on business from Porlock.

On that green light that lingers in the west: I may not hope from outward forms to win The passion and the life, whose fountains are within.