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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 has been of
Turn wheresoe'er I may,
By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
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 passed away a glory from the earth.
Now, while the Birds thus sing a joyous song,
As to the tabor's sound,
To me alone there came a thought of grief:
The Cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep,-
Land and sea
Give themselves up to jollity,
And with the heart of May
Doth every Beast keep holiday ;
Thou Child of Joy
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy
Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call
Ye to each other make; I
The heavens laugh with you in
My heart is at your festival,
My head hath its coronal,
The fuluess of your bliss, I feel-I feel it all.
Oh evil day! if I were sullen
While the Earth herself is adorning,
This sweet May-morning;
And the Children are pulling,
On every side,
In a thousand vallies far and wide,
Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
And the Babe leaps up on his mother's arm:-
-But there's a Tree, of many one,
A single Field which I have looked upon,
Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
And cometh from afar?
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home: