I Strolled Last Eve Across The Lonely Down; One Solitary Picture Struck My Eye: A Distant Ploughboy Stood Against The Sky - How Far He Seemed Above The Noisy Town! Upon The Bosom Of A Cloud The Sod Laid Its Bruised Cheek As He Moved Slowly By, And, Watching Him, I Asked Myself If I In Very Truth Stood Half As Near To God.