There are two times in life, to love and fear, —
Two times like birth and death;
They are two different echoes that we hear,
Which Heaven uttereth.

II.

Those are not real — the strong-vaulted sky,
The heavy-flowing seas,
The rocky roots of hills, and lakes that lie
In hollows deep like these.

III.

Heaven comes with her two voices, old and young,
Creating these for us;
They are but mystic shadows dimly flung
From off our spirits thus.

IV.

All hope, all joy, all mortal life with such
Sweet sadness is inlaid:
And all things have on them from Heaven a touch
Of sunshine or of shade.

V.

I have been here before, yet scarce can tell
The outline of the hills;
The light is changed, — another voice doth swell
In those wild-sounding rills.

VI.

I have been here before: in sun and shade
A blythe green place it seemed:
Here have I talked with friends, sweet songs have made
And lovely things have dreamed.

VII.

And I have ridden to the lake this day
With more than common gladness;
But hill and flood upon me strangely weigh
With new and fearful sadness.

VIII.

And all bright forms without me I would take —
A redbreast on the wall,
A buzzard flapping o'er the cold blue lake,
A hundred streams that call

IX.

One to another all Helvellyn over,
The light upon the pine,
Yon single pine on high, that can discover
There is a sun to shine:

X.

But, above all, the boy who at my side,
For boyhood hath no morrow,
Bound up in his own merry thoughts, doth chide
His dull friend for his sorrow;

XI.

Yea, — above all, that boy to whom is given
Better than miser's pelf,
To love, and such love ever is of Heaven,
One older than himself: —

XII.

All these bright things into my soul I take,
That they may shed light there.
And they but give cold blueness to the lake,
Cold brightness to the air.

XIII.

Oh! speak to me, thou lake! thou mountain brow!
In that old voice of joy —
Oh! speak to me, as ye are speaking now
To that pure-hearted boy.

XIV.

" Nay, bid us not, we are but voiceless things,
Shadows and pomps for thee;
We can but echo the dread voice that rings
From Heaven's blue canopy;

XV.

" And thou hast deadened it; we cannot hear
Through that thick soul of thine;
We are mute slaves, and waiting mutely here
For thee to give the sign.

XVI.

" Sunshine and shade, sweet wind and pearly shower —
All these we have of thee;
Our light and gloom we borrow every hour
From thine infinity.

XVII.

" We have no depth, no substance of our own,
No life which we inherit, —
Oh! blame not us; we are pale outlines thrown
From thine undying spirit. "