I see as at the noon's pale core—

A shadow that lifts clear and floats—

The cabin'd village round the shore,

The landing and the fringe of boats;

Faint films of smoke that curl and wreathe,

And upward with the like desire

The vast gray church that seems to breathe

In heaven with its dreaming spire.

[35]

And there the last blue boundaries rise,

That guard within their compass furled

This plot of earth: beyond them lies

The mystery of the echoing world;

And still my thought goes on, and yields

New vision and new joy to me,

Far peopled hills, and ancient fields,

And cities by the crested sea.

I see no more the barges pass,

Nor mark the ripple round the pier,

And all the uproar, mass on mass,

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