To Solitude

MARY TROXELL

"The world is too much with us; late and soon."*
We fain would pass within the temple gate,
Where in deep solitude, God's gracious boon,
We lose earth's senseless dissonance and hate.
Then, as the trav'ler on some mountainside
Sees through th' enshrounding mist the gleam of light
That, first dispelling gloom, shines far and wide,
Bathing the blue-crowned peaks in radiance bright;
So, listening in the solitude, we hear,
Like some sweet far-off melody, a voice,
Then, full-toned harmony in choral clear
That in majestic pæan swells,—"Rejoice!"
"The world is too much with us," soon and late;
We fain would pass within the temple gate.

*Wordsworth.

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