SPLENDOR IN THE GRASS

9.35

Splendor in the grass 

               -William Wordsworth

What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass,
of glory in the flower,
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.