ODE. There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparell'd in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it has been of yore ; 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, H2 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 pass'd 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, And all the earth is gay, 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 it's coronal, The fullness of your bliss, I feel-I feel it all. 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 : 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, Doth the same tale repeat : Whither is fled the visionary gleam? Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: And cometh from afar: Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness, |