There hath past away a glory from the earth.

The rainbow comes and goes,

And lovely is the rose;

The moon doth with delight

Look round her when the heavens are bare;

Waters on a starry night

Are beautiful and fair;

The sunshine is a glorious birth;

But yet I know, where’er I go,

That there hath past away a glory from the earth.

Then, sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!

And let the young lambs bound

As to the tabor’s sound!

We, in thought, will join your throng,

Ye that pipe and ye that play,

Ye that through your hearts to-day

feel the gladness of the May!

What though the radiance which was once so bright

Be now for ever taken from my sight,

Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;

We will grieve not, rather find

Strength in what remains behind;

Extract from
Ode On Intimations Of Immortality From Recollections Of Early Childhood: By William Wordsworth

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