I deem not profitless those fleeting moods
Of shadowy exultation: not for this,
That they are kindred to our purer mind
And intellectual life; but that the soul,
Remembering how she felt, but what she felt
Remembering not, retains an obscure sense
Of possible sublimity, to which,
With growing faculties she doth aspire,
With faculties still growing, feeling still
That whatsoever point they gain, they still
have something to pursue.
. . . that universal power
And fitness in the latent qualities
And essences of things, by which the mind
Is moved by feelings of delight . . .
Oft in those moments such a holy calm
Did overspread my soul, that I forgot
That I had bodily eyes, and what I saw
Appeared like something in myself, a dream,
A prospect in my mind.
. . . Wonder not
If such my transports were, for in all things
I saw one life, and felt that it was joy.
16 April 2005
19th century transport
Wordsworth, The Prelude, Book II: