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The waters of the Ponds where they abide."Once I could meet with them on every side;But they have dwindled long by slow decay;Yet still I persevere, and find them where I may."
While he was talking thus, the lonely place,The Old Man's shape, and speech, all troubled me:In my mind's eye I seem'd to see him paceAbout the weary moors continually,Wandering about alone and silently.While I these thoughts within myself pursued,He, having made a pause, the same discourse renewed.
And soon with this he other matter blended,Chearfully uttered, with demeanour kind,But stately in the main; and, when he ended,I could have laugh'd myself to scorn, to findIn that decrepit Man so firm a mind."God," said I, "be my help and stay secure;I'll think of the Leech-gatherer on the lonely moor."
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