A plant in any secret place,
In quaking bog, on snowy hill,
Beneath the grass that shades the rill, 40
Under the snow, between the rocks,
In damp fields known to bird and fox,
But he would come in the very hour
It opened in its virgin bower,

As if a sunbeam showed the place, 45
And tell its long-descended race.

It seemed as if the breezes brought him; It seemed as if the sparrows taught him;

As if by secret sight he knew

Where, in far fields, the orchis grew. 50
Many haps fall in the field
Seldom seen by wishful eyes;

But all her shows did Nature yield,
To please and win this pilgrim wise.
He saw the partridge drum in the
woods;

55

He heard the woodcock's evening hymn;

He found the tawny thrushes' broods;
And the shy hawk did wait for him;
What others did at distance hear,
And guessed within the thicket's gloom,
Was shown to this philosopher,
And at his bidding seemed to come.

III

61

And ills to come as evils past bemoan. 90 Not so the wise; no coward watch he

keeps

To spy what danger on his pathway creeps;

Go where he will, the wise man is at home,

His hearth the earth, his hall the azure dome;

Where his clear spirit leads him,

By God's own light illumined and foreshowed.

IV

'Twas one of the charmèd days
When the genius of God doth flow,
The wind may alter twenty ways,
A tempest cannot blow;

It may blow north, it still is warm;
Or south, it still is clear;

Or east, it smells like a clover-farm; Or west, no thunder fear.

The musing peasant lowly great

100

105