Wednesday, October 06, 2004

    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;
    In the primal sympathy
    Which having been must ever be;
Intimations Of Immortality From Recollections Of Early Childhood, William Wordsworth.

Relevant poetry in the oddest places.

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