William Wordsworth: «Splendour in the Grass»

Splendour in the Grass

  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 splendour 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.

                   — William Wordsworth