The child is father of the man;And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. (Wordsworth, \"My Heart Leaps Up\")<\/p>\n
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,<\/p>\n
The earth, and every common sight,<\/p>\n
To me did seem<\/p>\n
Apparelled in celestial light,<\/p>\n
The glory and the freshness of a dream.<\/p>\n
It is not now as it hath been of yore;<\/p>\n
Turn wheresoe'er I may,<\/p>\n
By night or day.<\/p>\n
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.<\/p>\n
The Rainbow comes and goes,<\/p>\n
And lovely is the Rose,<\/p>\n
The Moon doth with delight<\/p>\n
Look round her when the heavens are bare,<\/p>\n
Waters on a starry night<\/p>\n
Are beautiful and fair;<\/p>\n
The sunshine is a glorious birth;<\/p>\n
But yet I know, where'er I go,<\/p>\n
That there hath past away a glory from the earth.<\/p>\n
Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,<\/p>\n
And while the young lambs bound<\/p>\n
As to the tabor's sound,<\/p>\n
To me alone there came a thought of grief:<\/p>\n
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,<\/p>\n
And I again am strong:<\/p>\n
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep;<\/p>\n
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;<\/p>\n
I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng,<\/p>\n
The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep,<\/p>\n
And all the earth is gay;<\/p>\n
Land and sea<\/p>\n
Give themselves up to jollity,<\/p>\n
And with the heart of May<\/p>\n
Doth every Beast keep holiday;<\/p>\n
Thou Child of Joy,<\/p>\n
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy Shepherd-boy.<\/p>\n
Ye blessd creatures, I have heard the call<\/p>\n
Ye to each other make; I see<\/p>\n
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;<\/p>\n
My heart is at your festival,<\/p>\n
My head hath its coronal,<\/p>\n
The fulness of your bliss, I feelI feel it all.<\/p>\n
Oh evil day! if I were sullen<\/p>\n
While Earth herself is adorning,<\/p>\n
This sweet May-morning,<\/p>\n
And the Children are culling<\/p>\n
On every side,<\/p>\n
In a thousand valleys far and wide,<\/p>\n
Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,<\/p>\n
And the Babe leaps up on his Mother's arm:<\/p>\n
I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!<\/p>\n
But there's a Tree, of many, one,<\/p>\n
A single field which I have looked upon,<\/p>\n
Both of them speak of something that is gone;<\/p>\n
The Pansy at my feet<\/p>\n
Doth the same tale repeat:<\/p>\n
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?<\/p>\n
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?<\/p>\n
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:<\/p>\n
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,<\/p>\n
Hath had elsewhere its setting,<\/p>\n
And cometh from afar:<\/p>\n
Not in entire forgetfulness,<\/p>\n
And not in utter nakedness,<\/p>\n
But trailing clouds of glory do we come<\/p>\n
From God, who is our home:<\/p>\n
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!<\/p>\n
Shades of the prison-house begin to close<\/p>\n
Upon the growing Boy,<\/p>\n
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,<\/p>\n
He sees it in his joy;<\/p>\n
The Youth, who daily farther from the east<\/p>\n
Must travel, still is Nature's Priest,<\/p>\n
And by the vision splendid<\/p>\n
Is on his way attended;<\/p>\n
At length the Man perceives it die away,<\/p>\n
And fade into the light of common day.<\/p>\n
Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;<\/p>\n
Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,<\/p>\n
And, even with something of a Mother's mind,<\/p>\n
And no unworthy aim,<\/p>\n
The homely Nurse doth all she can<\/p>\n
To make her Foster-child, her Inmate Man,<\/p>\n
Forget the glories he hath known,<\/p>\n
And that imperial palace whence he came.<\/p>\n
Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,<\/p>\n
A six years' Darling of a pigmy size!<\/p>\n
See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies,<\/p>\n
Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses,<\/p>\n
With light upon him from his father's eyes!<\/p>\n
See, at his feet, some little plan or chart,<\/p>\n
Some fragment from his dream of human life,<\/p>\n
Shaped by himself with newly-learn{e}d art<\/p>\n
A wedding or a festival,<\/p>\n
A mourning or a funeral;<\/p>\n
And this hath now his heart,<\/p>\n
And unto this he frames his song:<\/p>\n
Then will he fit his tongue<\/p>\n
To dialogues of business, love, or strife;<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Read more from the original source:<\/p>\n
Ode: Intimations of Immortality from | Poetry Foundation<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The child is father of the man;And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. (Wordsworth, \"My Heart Leaps Up\") There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore; Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day Continue reading