I. EXPOSTULATION AND REPLY. 66 WHY, William, on that old gray stone, Thus for the length of half a day, Why, William, sit you thus alone, And dream your time away? Where are your books? — that light bequeathed To beings else forlorn and blind! Up! up! and drink the spirit breathed You look round on your mother earth, One morning thus, by Esthwaite lake, When life was sweet, I knew not why, To me my good friend Matthew spake, And thus I made reply: "The eye-it cannot choose but see; We cannot bid the ear be still; Our bodies feel, where'er they be, Nor less I deem that there are Powers That we can feed this mind of ours Think you, mid all this mighty sum That nothing of itself will come, But we must still be seeking? -Then ask not wherefore, here, alone, Conversing as I may, |