ID could gather all my wander
none clear vision, then T mig dreams: soe!
find rest. nent Bat not my heart with beauty pres, There fs no light from all these fie Tal gleams, There is no peace beside these The fret children of "mind My eyes are dim with seeing, and mins" breast Throbs with the murmur of a my-"ad themes mut be"20r"1 must be patient Glad to behold from this long lowland track Allaring vistas. Nor may I turn back, Even If T would, to yon sm9jth,, green-stopped hill At the road's end, whither my siebs are bent, [There stands a snow-clad peak, T
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.