One summer evening (led by her) I found ⏎ A little boat tied to a willow tree ⏎ Within a rocky cove, its usual home. ⏎ Straight I unloosed her chain, and stepping in ⏎ Pushed from the shore. It was an act of stealth ⏎ And troubled pleasure, nor without the voice ⏎ Of mountain-echoes did my boat move on; ⏎ Leaving behind her still, on either side, ⏎ Small circles glittering idly in the moon, ⏎ Until they melted all into one track ⏎ Of sparkling light. But now, like one who rows, ⏎ Proud of his skill, to reach a chosen point ⏎ With an unswerving line, I fixed my view ⏎ Upon the summit of a craggy ridge, ⏎ The horizon's utmost boundary; far above ⏎ Was nothing but the stars and the grey sky. ⏎ She was an elfin pinnace; lustily ⏎ I dipped my oars into the silent lake, ⏎ And, as I rose upon the stroke, my boat ⏎ Went heaving through the water like a swan; ⏎ When, from behind that craggy steep till then ⏎ The horizon's bound, a huge peak, black and huge, ⏎ As if with voluntary power instinct, ⏎ Upreared its head. I struck and struck again, ⏎ And growing still in stature the grim shape ⏎ Towered up between me and the stars, and still, ⏎ For so it seemed, with purpose of its own ⏎ And measured motion like a living thing, ⏎ Strode after me. With trembling oars I turned, ⏎ And through the silent water stole my way ⏎ Back to the covert of the willow tree; ⏎ There in her mooring-place I left my bark, - ⏎ And through the meadows homeward went, in grave ⏎ And serious mood; but after I had seen ⏎ That spectacle, for many days, my brain ⏎ Worked with a dim and undetermined sense ⏎ Of unknown modes of being; o'er my thoughts ⏎ There hung a darkness, call it solitude ⏎ Or blank desertion. No familiar shapes ⏎ Remained, no pleasant images of trees, ⏎ Of sea or sky, no colours of green fields; ⏎ But huge and mighty forms, that do not live ⏎ Like living men, moved slowly through the mind ⏎ By day, and were a trouble to my dreams🏁

One summer evening (led by her) I found ⏎ A little boat tied to a willow tree ⏎ Within a rocky cove, its usual home. ⏎ Straight I unloosed her chain, and stepping in ⏎ Pushed from the shore. It was an act of stealth ⏎ And troubled pleasure, nor without the voice ⏎ Of mountain-echoes did my boat move on; ⏎ Leaving behind her still, on either side, ⏎ Small circles glittering idly in the moon, ⏎ Until they melted all into one track ⏎ Of sparkling light. But now, like one who rows, ⏎ Proud of his skill, to reach a chosen point ⏎ With an unswerving line, I fixed my view ⏎ Upon the summit of a craggy ridge, ⏎ The horizon's utmost boundary; far above ⏎ Was nothing but the stars and the grey sky. ⏎ She was an elfin pinnace; lustily ⏎ I dipped my oars into the silent lake, ⏎ And, as I rose upon the stroke, my boat ⏎ Went heaving through the water like a swan; ⏎ When, from behind that craggy steep till then ⏎ The horizon's bound, a huge peak, black and huge, ⏎ As if with voluntary power instinct, ⏎ Upreared its head. I struck and struck again, ⏎ And growing still in stature the grim shape ⏎ Towered up between me and the stars, and still, ⏎ For so it seemed, with purpose of its own ⏎ And measured motion like a living thing, ⏎ Strode after me. With trembling oars I turned, ⏎ And through the silent water stole my way ⏎ Back to the covert of the willow tree; ⏎ There in her mooring-place I left my bark, - ⏎ And through the meadows homeward went, in grave ⏎ And serious mood; but after I had seen ⏎ That spectacle, for many days, my brain ⏎ Worked with a dim and undetermined sense ⏎ Of unknown modes of being; o'er my thoughts ⏎ There hung a darkness, call it solitude ⏎ Or blank desertion. No familiar shapes ⏎ Remained, no pleasant images of trees, ⏎ Of sea or sky, no colours of green fields; ⏎ But huge and mighty forms, that do not live ⏎ Like living men, moved slowly through the mind ⏎ By day, and were a trouble to my dreams🏁