He had surveyed it with a finer eye, 60
A heart more wakeful; and had worn the track [8]
By pacing here, unwearied and alone, [A]
In that habitual restlessness of foot
That haunts the Sailor measuring [9] o'er and o'er
His short domain upon the vessel's deck, 65
While she pursues her course [10] through the dreary sea.

When thou hadst quitted Esthwaite's pleasant shore,
And taken thy first leave of those green hills
And rocks that were the play-ground of thy youth,
Year followed year, my Brother! and we two, 70
Conversing not, knew little in what mould
Each other's mind was fashioned; [11] and at length
When once again we met in Grasmere Vale,
Between us there was little other bond
Than common feelings of fraternal love. 75
But thou, a School-boy, to the sea hadst carried
Undying recollections; Nature there
Was with thee; she, who loved us both, she still
Was with thee; and even so didst thou become
A _silent_ Poet; from the solitude 80
Of the vast sea didst bring a watchful heart
Still couchant, an inevitable ear,
And an eye practised like a blind man's touch.
--Back to the joyless Ocean thou art gone;
Nor from this vestige of thy musing hours 85
Could I withhold thy honoured name,--and now
I love the fir-grove [12] with a perfect love.
Thither do I withdraw when cloudless suns