LVII.

Two or three seem so little, _one_ seems nothing: In deserts, forests, crowds, or by the shore, _There_ Solitude, we know, has her full growth in The spots which were her realms for evermore; But in a mighty hall or gallery, both in More modern buildings and those built of yore, A kind of Death comes o'er us all alone, Seeing what's meant for many with but one.