There was a boy; ye knew him well, ye cliffs That frowned o’er Windermere; for him at last The man was changed to a boy again; And he had a lovely time on the brink Of rocks remote, while dashing waves beneath Despaired of reaching him. There I hung When youthful zeal was on me; I presumed To bind my own affections, and take time To look into the country of the mind.

• William Wordsworth