The Prelude — William Wordsworth

Fair seed-time had my soul, and I grew up
Foster’d alike by beauty and by fear;
Much favor’d in my birthplace, and no less
In that beloved Vale to which erelong
We were transplanted—there were we let loose
For sports of wider range, where, as a Babe
Among his infant plays, I yet had mark’d
The heights that were my home, and in their bulk
Figure and image of right reason made
There apprehended; nor were they a frame
Of mere external forms, but were alive
With feeling of the power that is within.