Hour of Splendor

We've been under the weather lately and so the lack of chronicles. A feverish chorus of coughing adults and children. So I enjoy some thoughts of hours of spendor in the grass....

Excerpts from: William Wordsworth
Recollections of Early Childhood

Intimations of Immortality

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Appareled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.

…Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass,
of glory in the flower,
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind…