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.

But there’s a tree, of many, one, A single field which I have look’d upon, Both of them speak of something that is gone: The pansy at my feet Doth the same tale repeat: Whither is fled the visionary gleam? Where is it now, the glory and the dream?

Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood, Read the whole poem by William Wordsworth. 1770 - 1850