Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar.

Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.

These hoards of wealth you can unlock at will.

Give unto me, made lowly wise, The spirit of self-sacrifice; The confidence of reason give, And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live!

How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its root, and in that freedom bold.

There is a comfort in the strength of love; 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else would overset the brain, or break the heart.

Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain That has been, and may be again.