SEEN AFTER MANY YEARS.

There was a time before the chick could fly,
But still was screened by the maternal wing,
He worshipped these as if they held a spring
Of living waters. Had not God on high
Shown innocent William what it was to die,
Made him to know the rapture of the pain,
When soul and body part to meet again:
Dread truths concealed within futurity.

And now that years have shriven and tortured me,
When labouring much in thriftless fields hath filled
The tablets of my memory, these burn
With their old fires, within them still I see
A hand inspired, though in his Art unskilled;
My heart leaps up, my childhood's awes return.