Wordsworth Upon Helvellyn! Let The Cloud Ebb Audibly Along The Mountain-Wind, Then Break Against The Rock, And Show Behind The Lowland Valleys Floating Up To Crowd The Sense With Beauty. He With Forehead Bowed And Humble-Lidded Eyes, As One Inclined Before The Sovran Thought Of His Own Mind, And Very Meek With Inspirations Proud, Takes Here His Rightful Place As Poet-Priest By The High Altar, Singing Prayer And Prayer To The Higher Heavens. A Noble Vision Free Our Haydon'S Hand Has Flung Out From The Mist: No Portrait This, With Academic Air! This Is The Poet And His Poetry.