Always dear to me was this solitary hill, and this hedge, which from a large part, of the farthest horizon excludes the sight, But sitting and gazing, I frame within my thought endless, spaces beyond that hedge, and beyond- human, silences, and the deepest quiet, so that my heart almost takes fright, And when I hear the wind, rustling through these plants, I compare that, infinite silence to this voice, and there come to mind eternity, and the dead seasons, and the present, and living one, and the sound of it. Thus in this, immensity my thinking drowns, and it is sweet to be shipwrecked in this sea
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