s away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in."

There is no sense of a gap here, in passing from heaven to earth.
In a strain of stronger emotion, he makes Endymion speak:

"Lo! from opening clouds, I saw emerge
The loveliest moon that ever silvered o'er
A shell from Neptune's goblet; she did soar
So passionately bright, my dazzled soul
Commingling with her argent spheres did roll
Through clear and cloudy."

There is little of Schopenhauer's passive and contemplative
receptivity here! Rather a mingling of being in a sweep through
space.

Catullus sang how that:

"Near the Delian olive-tree Latonia gave thy life to thee
That thou shouldst be for ever queen
Of mountains and of forests green;
Of every deep glen's mystery;
Of all streams in their melody."

And Wordsworth, in fullest sympathy enforces the old-world
imaginings. He dwells on the homely aspect:

"Wanderer! that stoop'st so low, and com'st so near
To human life's unsettled atmosphere;
Who lov'st with Night and Silence to partake,
So might it seem, the cares of them that wake;
And through the cottage-lattice softly peeping,
Dost shield from harm the humblest of the sleeping"--

And links on these friendly thoughts to the mythical spirit of the
past:

"well might that fair face
And all those attributes of modest grace,
In days when Fancy wrought unchecked by fear,
Down to the green fields fetch thee from thy sphere,
To sit in leafy woods by fountains clear."

Or take the famous Homeric simile so finely translated by
Tennyson:

"As when in Heaven the stars above the moon
Look beautiful, when all the winds are laid,
And every height comes out, and jutting peak
And valley, and the immeasurable heavens
Break open to their highest, and all the stars
Shine, and the shepherd gladdens in his heart."

The stars are here associated with the moon--so much the better
for the principle now defended.

Compare this with some lines from Goethe himself--the Goethe
who would persuade us that the stars excite no craving, and that
we are happy simply in their glory. He thus addresses the
Moon:

"Bush and vale thou fill'st again
With thy misty ray
And my spirit's heavy ch