Explore "Palinodia" by Charles Kingsley on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Ye mountains, on whose torrent-furrowed slopes, / And bare and silent brows uplift to heaven, / I envied oft the soul which fills your wastes / Of pure and stern sublime, and still expanse / Unbroken by the petty incidents / Of noisy life: Oh hear me once again!
Winds, upon whose racked eddies, far aloft, / Above the murmur of the uneasy world, / My thoughts in exultation held their way: / Whose tremulous whispers through the rustling glade / Were once to me unearthly tones of love, / Joy without object, wordless music, stealing / Through all my soul, until my pulse beat fast / With aimless hope, and unexpressed desire -- / Thou sea, who wast to me a prophet deep / Through all thy restless waves, and wasting shores, / Of silent labour, and eternal change; / First teacher of the dense immensity / Of ever-stirring life, in thy strange forms / Of fish, and shell, and worm, and oozy weed: / To me alike thy frenzy and thy sleep / Have been a deep and breathless joy: Oh hear!