{15}

And trusted the dumb creature and the hand

That guided us, nor sought to understand?

Were they not greetings of things old and dear,—

Not the strange voices of an alien sphere,—

That greeted us and linked us, with a bond

Of speech familiar, to some home beyond?

We were a part of all that we beheld

In those young days: it was our joy that welled

Into the sunshine with the mountain rill,

Our heart that in the rose’s heart lay still,

Our wings that held the sea-bird o’er the foam,

Our feet that brought the wandering outcast home.

Earth had no secret that we could not share,

For everything we saw and loved we were.{16}

{16}

Not when defenceless on the earth we stood

In childhood doubted we that life was good.

Not when love made us part of everything

Could we distrust the hidden fountain-spring.

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