This Lime-Tree Bower my Prison

Well, they are gone, and here must I remain,     This lime-tree bower my prison! I have lost     Beauties and feelings, such as would have been     Most sweet to my remembrance even when age     Had dimm'd mine eyes to blindness! They, meanwhile,     Friends, whom I never more may meet again,     On springy heath, along the hill-top edge,     Wander in gladness, and wind down, perchance,     To that still roaring dell, of which I told;     The roaring dell, o'erwooded, narrow, deep,     And only speckled by the mid-day sun;     Where its slim trunk the ash from rock to rock     Flings arching like a bridge; that branchless ash,     Unsunn'd and damp, whose few poor yellow leaves     Ne'er tremble in the gale, yet tremble still,     Fann'd by the water-fall! and there my friends     Behold the dark green file of long lank weeds,     That all at once (a most fantastic sight!)     Still nod and drip beneath the dripping edge     Of the blue clay-stone.                 Now, my friends emerge     Beneath the wide wide Heaven, and view again     The many-steepled tract magnificent     Of hilly fields and meadows, and the sea,     With some fair bark, perhaps, whose sails light up     The slip of smooth clear blue betwixt two Isles     Of purple shadow! Yes! they wander on     In gladness all; but thou, methinks, most glad,     My gentle-hearted Charles! for thou hast pined     And hunger'd after Nature, many a year,     In the great City pent, winning thy way     With sad yet patient soul, through evil and pain     And strange calamity! Ah! slowly sink     Behind the western ridge, thou glorious Sun!     Shine in the slant beams of the sinking orb,     Ye purple heath-flowers! richlier burn, ye clouds!     Live in the yellow light, ye distant groves!     And kindle, thou blue Ocean! So my friend     Struck with deep joy may stand, as I have stood,     Silent with swimming sense; yea, gazing round     On the wide landscape, gaze till all doth seem     Less gross than bodily; and of such hues     As veil the Almighty Spirit, when yet he makes     Spirits perceive his presence.                     A delight     Comes sudden on my heart, and I am glad     As I myself were there! Nor in this bower,     This little lime-tree bower, have I not mark'd     Much that has sooth'd me. Pale beneath the blaze     Hung the transparent foliage; and I watch'd     Some broad and sunny leaf, and lov'd to see     The shadow of the leaf and stem above     Dappling its sunshine! And that walnut-tree     Was richly ting'd, and a deep radiance lay     Full on the ancient ivy, which usurps     Those fronting elms, and now, with blackest mass     Makes their dark branches gleam a lighter hue     Through the late twilight: and though now the bat     Wheels silent by, and not a swallow twitters,     Yet still the solitary humble-bee     Sings in the bean-flower! Henceforth I shall know     That Nature ne'er deserts the wise and pure;     No plot so narrow, be but Nature there,     No waste so vacant, but may well employ     Each faculty of sense, and keep the heart     Awake to Love and Beauty! and sometimes     'Tis well to be bereft of promis'd good,     That we may lift the soul, and contemplate     With lively joy the joys we cannot share.     My gentle-hearted Charles! when the last rook     Beat its straight path across the dusky air     Homewards, I blest it! deeming its black wing     (Now a dim speck, now vanishing in light)     Had cross'd the mighty Orb's dilated glory,     While thou stood'st gazing ; or, when all was still,     Flew creeking o'er thy head, and had a charm     For thee, my gentle-hearted Charles, to whom     No sound is dissonant which tells of Life.