기하학 幾何 學 Geometry 1992 종이 에 혼합 재료 Mixed Media on Paper 51 x 42 cm _ 20 x 16 1 / 2 in Guilt And Sorrow William Wordsworth XLI " And oft I thought ( my fancy was so strong ) That I , at last , a resting - place had found ; ' Here will I dwell , ' said I , ' my whole life long , Roaming the illimitable waters round ; Here will I live , of all but heaven disowned , And end my days upon the peaceful flood . '-- To break my dream the vessel reached its bound ; And homeless near a thousand homes I stood , And near a thousand tables pined and wanted food . XLII " No help I sought ; in sorrow turned adrift , Was hopeless , as if cast on some bare rock ; Nor morsel to my mouth that day did lift , Nor raised my hand at any door to knock . I lay where , with his drowsy mates , the cock From the cross - timber of an out - house hung : Dismally tolled , that night , the city clock ! At morn my sick heart hunger scarcely stung , Nor to the beggar ' s language could I fit my tongue . XLIII " So passed a second day ; and , when the third Was come , I tried in vain the crowd ' s resort . -- In deep despair , by frightful wishes stirred , Near the sea - side I reached a ruined fort ; There , pains which nature could no more support , With blindness linked , did on my vitals fall ; And , after many interruptions short Of hideous sense , I sank , nor step could crawl : Unsought for was the help that did my life recall . XLIV " Borne to a hospital , I lay with brain Drowsy and weak , and shattered memory ; I heard my neighbours in their beds complain Of many things which never troubled me -- Of feet still bustling round with busy glee , Of looks where common kindness had no part , Of service done with cold formality , Fretting the fever round the languid heart , And groans which , as they said , might make a dead man start . XLV " These things just served to stir the slumbering sense , Nor pain nor pity in my bosom raised . With strength did memory return ; and , thence Dismissed , again on open day I gazed , At houses , men , and common light , amazed . The lanes I sought , and , as the sun retired , Came where beneath the trees a faggot blazed , The travellers saw me weep , my fate inquired , And gave me food -- and rest , more welcome , more desired . XLVI " Rough potters seemed they , trading soberly With panniered asses driven from door to door ; But life of happier sort set forth to me , And other joys my fancy to allure -- The bag - pipe dinning on the midnight moor In barn uplighted ; and companions boon , Well met from far with revelry secure Among the forest glades , while jocund June Rolled fast along the sky his warm and genial moon . XLVII " But ill they suited me -- those journeys dark O ' er moor and mountain , midnight theft to hatch ! To charm the surly house - dog ' s faithful bark , Or hang on tip - toe at the lifted latch . The gloomy lantern , and the dim blue match , The black disguise , the warning whistle shrill , And ear still busy on its nightly watch , Were not for me , brought up in nothing ill : Besides , on griefs so fresh my thoughts were brooding still . XLVIII " What could I do , unaided and unblest ? My father ! gone was every friend of thine : And kindred of dead husband are at best Small help ; and , after marriage such as mine , With little kindness would to me incline . Nor was I then for toil or service fit ; My deep - drawn sighs no effort could confine ; In open air forgetful would I sit Whole hours , with idle arms in moping sorrow knit . XLIX " The roads I paced , I loitered through the fields ; Contentedly , yet sometimes self - accused . Trusted my life to what chance bounty yields , Now coldly given , now utterly refused . The ground I for my bed have often used : But what afflicts my peace with keenest ruth , Is that I have my inner self abused , Foregone the home delight of constant truth , And clear and open soul , so prized in fearless youth . L " Through tears the rising sun I oft have viewed , Through tears have seen him towards that world descend Where my poor heart lost all its fortitude : Three years a wanderer now my course I bend -- Oh ! tell me whither -- for no earthly friend Have I . "-- She ceased , and weeping turned away ; As if because her tale was at an end , She wept ; because she had no more to say Of that perpetual weight which on her spirit lay . http : / / www . bartleby . com / 145 / ww 118 . html The Triangles of Life Sacred Geometry and the Pyramids at Giza