I Past The Hills That Peep Where The Leaze Is Smiling, On And On Beguiling Crisply-Cropping Sheep; Under Boughs Of Brushwood Linking Tree And Tree In A Shade Of Lushwood, There Caressed We! Ii Hemmed By City Walls That Outshut The Sunlight, In A Foggy Dun Light, Where The Footstep Falls With A Pit-Pat Wearisome In Its Cadency On The Flagstones Drearisome There Pressed We! Iii Where In Wild-Winged Crowds Blown Birds Show Their Whiteness Up Against The Lightness Of The Clammy Clouds; By The Random River Pushing To The Sea, Under Bents That Quiver There Rest We.