Not in entire forgetfulness

And not in utter nakedness

But trailing clouds of glory do we come

From God who is our home:

Heaven lies about us in our infancy!

Shades of the prison-house begin to close

Upon the growing boy

But he beholds the light and whence it flows

He sees it in his joy:

The youth, who daily farther from the east

Must travel, still is nature’s priest,

And by the vision splendid

Is on his way attended.

At length the man perceives it die away

And fade into the light of common day.

... more later ...