ఆంధ్ర కవిత్వచరిత్రము
చతుర్థ
191
Not in utter nakedness
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God who is our home
Heaven lies about us in our infancy
Shades of the Prisoo-house begin to close
apon the growing boy.
But he beholds the light and whence it flows
He sees it in bis joy
The youth, who daily farther from the east
Must travel still is Nature's priest,
And by the vision splendid
Is on his way attended
At length the man percieves it die away
And fade into the light of Commor day
Thou whose exterior Semblance doth belie
Thy soul's itmapsity,
Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keop
Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind
That deaf and silent read'st the eternal deep
Haunted for ever by the eternal mind
Mighty prophet! Seer blest!
On whom those truths do rest
Which we are toiling all our lives to find
In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave
Thou over whom thy immortality
Broods like the day, & master over a slave
A presence which is not to be put by;
Thou little Child yet glorious in the night
Of heaven born freedom on thy beings height
Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
