In the dense entangled street, Where the web of Trade is weaving, Forms unknown in crowds I meet Much of each and all believing; Each his small designs achieving Hurries on with restless feet, While, through Fancy?s power deceiving, Self in every form I greet. Oft in yonder rocky dell Neath the birches? shadow seated, I have watched the darksome well, Where my stooping form, repeated, Now advanced and now retreated With the spring?s alternate swell, Till destroyed before completed As the big drops grew and fell. By the hollow mountain-side Questions strange I shout for ever, While the echoes far and wide Seem to mock my vain endeavour; Still I shout, for though they never Cast my borrowed voice aside, Words from empty words they sever? Words of Truth from words of Pride. Yes, the faces in the crowd, And the wakened echoes, glancing From the mountain, rocky browed, And the lights in water dancing? Each my wandering sense entrancing, Tells me back my thoughts aloud, All the joys of Truth enhancing Crushing all that makes me proud.