WORDSWORTH. ODE. INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD. I. THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, To me did seem The glory and the freshness of a dream. Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day, The things which I have seen I now can see no more! II. 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. III. Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song, As to the tabor's sound, To me alone there came a thought of grief; 5 10 15 20 The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep; Give themselves up to jolity, And with the heart of May Doth every beast keep holiday! Thou child of joy, 25 330 Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy shepherd boy! And the babe leaps up on his mother's arm :— 50 I hear, I hear, with joy I hear! But there's a tree, of many, one, A single field which I have look'd upon, Both of them speak of something that is gone; The pansy at my feet Doth the same tale repeat. Whither is fled the visionary gleam? Where is it now, the glory and the dream? V. 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, 55 60 (But trailing clouds of glory do we come Upon the growing boy, But he beholds the light, and whence it flows, — The youth, who daily farther from the east And by the vision splendid Is on his way attended; At length the man perceives it die away, VI. Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own; And no unworthy aim, The homely nurse doth all she can To make her foster-child, her inmate man, VII. 65 70 75 80 Behold the child among his new-born blisses, 85 A six years' darling of a pigmy size! See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies, Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, With light upon him from his father's eyes! A mourning or a funeral; And this hath now his heart, To dialogues of business, love, or strife; But it will not be long 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" That Life brings with her in her equipage; Were endless imitation. VIII. Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep Mighty Prophet! Seer blest! On whom those truths do rest, Broods like the day, a master o'er a slave, 105 110 115 120 125 Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight, And custom lie upon thee with a weight, Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life! IX. O joy, that in our embers Is something that doth live, That Nature yet remembers What was so fugitive! The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benedictions, not indeed For that which is most worthy to be blest Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of childhood, whether busy or at rest, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast; Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise ; But for those obstinate questionings 130 135 140 |