The Prelude: Book One Introduction

Oh, there is blessing in this gentle breeze

A visitant that while it fans my cheek

Doth seem half-conscious of the joy it brings

From the green fields, and from yon azure sky

Whate'er its mission, the soft breeze can come

To none more grateful than to me

Escaped from the vast city, where I long had pined

A discontented sojourner: now free

Free as a bird to settle where I will

What dwelling shall receive me?

In what vale shall be my harbour?

Underneath what grove shall I takе up my home?

And what clear stream shall with its murmur lull mе into rest?

The earth is all before me

With a heart joyous, nor scared at its own liberty

I look about and should the chosen guide

Be nothing better than a wandering cloud

I cannot miss my way, I breathe again

Trances of thought and mountings of the mind

Come fast upon me, it is shaken off

That burthen of my own unnatural self

The heavy weight of many a weary day

Not mine, and such as it were not made for me

Long months of peace

If such bold word accord with any promises of human life

Long months of ease and undisturbed delight

Are mine in prospect, whither shall I turn

By road or pathway or through trackless field

Up hill or down or shall some floating thing

Upon the river point me out my course?