In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave. Which we are toiling all our lives to find, That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep, Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie.The youth, who daily farther from the east.Shades of the prison-house begin to close ![]() The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:.Where is it now, the glory and the dream? The fulness of your bliss, I feel- I feel it all. The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call.That there hath past away a glory from the earth. Look round her when the heavens are bare The things which I have seen I now can see no more. There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,.Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavor,Ĭan utterly abolish or destroy! Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake, Where is it now, the glory and the dream? Our noisy years seem moments in the being Quotes The Rainbow comes and goes,Īnd lovely is the Rose… The sunshine is a glorious birth Wordsworth declared: "Two years at least passed between the writing of the four first stanzas and the remaining part". Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood was a poem by William Wordsworth, begun on Maand finished by 1806, possibly in early 1804. ![]() There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
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