Though absent long,

These forms of beauty have not been to me,

As is a landscape to a blind man’s eye:

But oft, in lonely rooms, and mid the din

Of towns and cities, I have owed to them,

In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,

Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart,

And passing even into my purer mind

With tranquil restoration: - feelings too

Of unremembered pleasure; … …

… …

While with an eye made quiet by the power

Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,

We see into the life of things.

… …

Taken from British poet William Wordsworth: Lines Written a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey