"Morn into noon did pass, noon into eve,
And the old day was welcome as the young,
As welcome, and as beautiful,--in sooth
More beautiful, as being a thing more holy."

When she raised her eyes to his, which I noticed she did frequently,
they seemed overflowing with tenderness.

When I rose to go, for I felt that I must not intrude longer on one for
whom I had such reverence, Wordsworth said, "I must show you my library,
and some tributes that have been sent to me from the friends of my
verse." His son John now came in, and we all proceeded to a large room
in front of the house, containing his books. Seeing that I had an
interest in such things, he seemed to take a real pleasure in showing me
the presentation copies of works by distinguished authors. We read
together, from many a well-worn old volume, notes in the handwriting of
Coleridge and Charles Lamb. I thought he did not praise easily those
whose names are indissolubly connected with his own in the history of
literature. It was languid praise, at least, and I observed he hesitated
for mild terms which he could apply to names almost as great as his own.
I believe a duplicate of the portrait which Inman had painted for Reed
hung in the room; at any rate a picture of himself was there, and he
seemed to regard it with veneration as we stood before it. As we moved
about the apartment, Mrs. Wordsworth quietly followed us, and listened
as eagerly as I did to everything her husband had to say. Her spare
little figure flitted about noiselessly, pausing as we paused, and
always walking slowly behind us as we went from object to object in the
room. John Wordsworth, too, seemed deeply interested to watch and listen
to his father. "And now," said Wordsworth, "I must show you one of my
latest presents." Leading us up to a corner of the room, we all stood
before a beautiful statuette which a young sculptor had just sent to
him, illustrating a passage in "The Excursion." Turning to me,
Wordsworth asked, "Do you know the meaning of this figure?" I saw at a
glance that it was

"A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract
Of inland ground, applying to his ear
The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell,"

and I quoted the lines. My recollection of the words pleased the old
man; and as we stood there in front of the figure he began to recite the
whole passage from "The Excursion," and it sounded very grand from the
poet's own lips. He repeated some fifty line