ODE. 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. 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 Shepherd Boy! Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call Ye to each other make; I see The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee; My heart is at your festival, My head hath its coronal, The fulness of your bliss, I feel-I feel it all. Oh evil day! if I were sullen While the Earth herself is adorning, 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 |