Sunrise on Rydal Water

Come down at dawn from windless hills   Into the valley of the lake, Where yet a larger quiet fills   The hour, and mist and water make With rocks and reeds and island boughs   One silence and one element, Where wonder goes surely as once   It went     By Galilean prows. Moveless the water and the mist,   Moveless the secret air above, Hushed, as upon some happy tryst   The poised expectancy of love; What spirit is it that adores   What mighty presence yet unseen? What consummation works apace   Between     These rapt enchanted shores? Never did virgin beauty wake   Devouter to the bridal feast Than moves this hour upon the lake   In adoration to the east. Here is the bride a god may know,   The primal will, the young consent, Till surely upon the appointed mood   Intent     The god shall leap—and, lo, Over the lake’s end strikes the sun—   White, flameless fire; some purity Thrilling the mist, a splendor won   Out of the world’s heart. Let there be Thoughts, and atonements, and desires;   Proud limbs, and undeliberate tongue; Where now we move with mortal care   Among     Immortal dews and fires. So the old mating goes apace,   Wind with the sea, and blood with thought Lover with lover; and the grace   Of understanding comes unsought When stars into the twilight steer,   Or thrushes build among the may, Or wonder moves between the hills,   And day     Comes up on Rydal mere.