LINESBy William WordsworthLOUD is the Vale!

the Voice is upWith which she speaks when storms are gone,A mighty unison of streams!

Of all her Voices, One!

Loud is the Vale;—this inland DepthIn peace is roaring like the SeaYon star upon the mountain-topIs listening quietly.

Sad was I, even to pain deprest,Importunate and heavy load!

The Comforter hath found me here,Upon this lonely road;And many thousands now are sad—Wait the fulfilment of their fear;For he must die who is their stay,Their glory disappear.

A Power is passing from the earthTo breathless Nature’s dark abyss;But when the great and good departWhat is it more than this—That Man, who is from God sent forth,Doth yet again to God return?

—Such ebb and flow must ever be,Then wherefore should we mourn?

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