verses the while:

"I walk unseen
On the dry smooth-shaven green,
To behold the wand'ring moon
Riding near her highest noon,
Like one that had been led astray
Through the heaven's wide pathless way."

After some while I espied a stile upon my right and climbing this, I
crossed a broad meadow to a small, rustic bridge spanning a stream
that flowed murmurous in the shade of alder and willow. Being upon
this bridge, I paused to look down upon these rippling waters and to
watch their flash and sparkle where the moon caught them.

And hearkening to the melodious voice of this streamlet, I began to
understand how great poems were written and books happened. At last I
turned and, crossing the bridge, went my way, pondering on Death, of
which I knew nothing, and on Life, of which I knew little more, and so
at last came to the woods.

On I went amid the trees, following a grassy ride; but as I advanced,
this grew ever narrower and I walked in an ever-deepening gloom,
wherefore I turned about, minded to go back, but found myself quite
lost and shut in, what with the dense underbrush around me and the
twisted, writhen branches above, whose myriad leaves obscured the
moon's kindly beam. In this dim twilight I pushed on then, as well as
I might, often running foul of unseen obstacles or pausing to loose my
garments from clutching thorns. Sudden there met me a wind, dank and
chill, that sighed fitfully near and far, very dismal to hear.