"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 past away a glory from the earth."
Part of Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood
BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH