Along the way br He walked that day, br Watching shapes that reveries limn, br And seldom he br Had eyes to see br The moment that encompassed him. br br br Bright yellowhammers br Made mirthful clamours, br And billed long straws with a bustling air, br And bearing their load br Flew up the road br That he followed, alone, without interest there. br br br From bank to ground br And over and round br They sidled along the adjoining hedge; br Sometimes to the gutter br Their yellow flutter br Would dip from the nearest slatestone ledge. br br br The smooth sea-line br With a metal shine, br And flashes of white, and a sail thereon, br He would also descry br With a half-wrapt eye br Between the projects he mused upon. br br br Yes, round him were these br Earth's artistries, br But specious plans that came to his call br Did most engage br His pilgrimage, br While himself he did not see at all. br br br Dead now as sherds br Are the yellow birds, br And all that mattered has passed away; br Yet God, the Elf, br Now shows him that self br As he was, and should have been shown, that day. br br br O it would have been good br Could he then have stood br At a focussed distance, and conned the whole, br But now such vision br Is mere derision, br Nor soothes his body nor saves his soul. br br br Not much, some may br Incline to say, br To see in him, had it all been seen. br Nay! he is aware br A thing was there br That loomed with an immortal mien.