"A jolly place," said he, "in times of old!
But something ails it now: the spot is cursed." Never to blend our pleasure or our pride
With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
Tintern Abbey.
Sensations sweet
Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart.
That best portion of a good man's life,
His little, nameless, unremembered acts
Of kindness and of love.
That blessed mood,
In which the burden of the mystery,
In which the heavy and the weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world,
Is lightened.
The fretful stir
Unprofitable, and the fever of the world,
Have hung upon the beatings of my heart.