I see the world in pride and tumult pass
Too bright with flame, too dark with phantasy,
Its forces meet and mingle mass in mass,
A tangle of Desire and Memory.
I see the labours of untiring hands
Closing at last upon a shadowy prize,
And Glory bear abroad through many lands
Great names—I watching with unenvious eyes:
From other lips let stormy numbers flow;
By others let great epics be compiled;
For me, the dreamer, 'tis enough to know
The lyric stress, the fervour sweet and wild:
I sit me in the windy grass and grow
As wise as age, as joyous as a child.