Though absent long,
These forms of beauty have not been to me,
As is a landscape to a blind man’s eye:
But oft, in lonely rooms, and mid the din
Of towns and cities, I have owed to them,
In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,
Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart,
And passing even into my purer mind
With tranquil restoration: - feelings too
Of unremembered pleasure; … …
… …
While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.
… …
Taken from British poet William Wordsworth: Lines Written a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey
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