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The glory and the freshness of a dream.
The things which I have seen, I now can see no more. 2. The rainbow comes and goes, and lovely is the rose ; The moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare;
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. 3. Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song, And while the young lambs bound
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;
Doth every beast keep holiday ;—
Thou child of joy,
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy shep
4. Ye blessed creatures! I have heard the call
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
My head hath its coronal
The fullness of your bliss, I feel, I feel it all.
This sweet May-morning,
And the children are culling
On every side,
In a thousand valleys far and wide,
Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
—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?
Not in entire forgetfulness,
But trailing clouds of glory, do we come
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows—
The youth, who daily farther from the east
Is on his way attended :
At length the man perceives it die away,
The homely nurse doth all she can
7. Behold the child among his new-born blisses— A six years' darling of a pigmy size!
See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies,
A mourning or a funeral—
And this hath now his heart,
To dialogues of business, love, or strife;
Ere this be thrown aside,
And with new joy and pride
The little actor cons another part
Filling from time to time his "humorous stage"
Were endless imitation.
8. Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
Thou best philosopher, who yět dost keep
On whom those truths do rest
Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
Broods like the day, a master o'er a slave,
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?
Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
O joy! that in our embers
Is something that doth live,
The thought of our past years in me doth breed
For that which is most worthy to be blest-
Of childhood, whether busy or at rest,
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast-
Of sense and outward things,
Moving about in worlds not realized,
High instincts, before which our mortal nature
Are yet the fountain-light of all our day,
Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Which neither listlessnèss, nor mad endeavor,
Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
Can utterly abolish or destroy!
Hence in a season of calm weather,
Though inland far we be,
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
Can in a moment travel thither,
And see the children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore. 10. 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 through your hearts to-day
Feel the gladness of the May!
What though the radiance which was once so bright
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower-
Strength in what remains behind :
Which, having been, must ever be ;
In the faith that looks through death,
To live beneath your more habitual sway.
I love the brooks which down their channels fret,
Is lovely yet;
The clouds that gather round the setting sun
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;