Charles H. Spurgeon on Psalms 92:6

Neither doth a fool understand this.

He roved among the vales and streams,

In the green wood and hollow dell;

They were his dwellings night and day, —

But nature never could find the way

Into the heart of Peter Bell.

In vain, through every changeful year,

Did Nature lead him as before;

A primrose by a river's brim

A yellow primrose was to him,

And it was nothing more.

In vain, through water, earth, and air,

The soul of happy sound was spread,

When Peter on some April morn,

Beneath the broom or budding thorn,

Made the warm earth his lazy bed.

At noon, when by the forest's edge

He lay beneath the branches high,

The soft blue sky did never melt

Into his heart; he never felt

The witchery of the soft blue sky!

There was a hardness in his cheek,

There was a hardness in his eye,

As if the man had fixed his face,

In many a solitary place,

Against the wind and open sky. —W. Wordsworth, 1770-1850.