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Past glory Print E-mail
By William Wordsworth   
Wednesday, 28 September 2011

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 hath 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;     
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.     

 
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