Trailing Clouds of Glory

Yesterday was the birthday of William Wordsworth (1770-1850); thus I post an excerpt from his beautiful Ode on Intimations of Immortality, so appropriate to this season and this day. Happy Passover, Happy Easter, everyone.


Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting;
The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting
And cometh from afar;
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy

—William Wordsworth, from Intimations of Immortality

You can read the poem in entirety here.

For a mini-bio of Wordsworth, please see My Heart Leaps Up. For another painting and favorite poem, please see Dancing with the Daffodils.

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