Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come.

A deep distress has humanised my soul.

When his veering gait And every motion of his starry train Seem governed by a strain Of music, audible to him alone.

Come grow old with me. The best is yet to be.

Oh for a single hour of that Dundee Who on that day the word of onset gave!

Heaven lies about us in our infancy.