One in whom persuasion and beliefHad ripened into faith, and faith becomeA passionate intuition.
This city now doth, like a garment, wear the beauty of the morning; silent bare, ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie open unto the fields and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Where lies the land to which yon ship must go?
For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.
Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close upon the growing boy
But trailing clouds of glory do we come,From God, who is our home:Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Another race hath been, and other palms are won./ Thanks to the human heart by which we live,/ Thanks to its tenderness, its joys and fears,/ To me the meanest flower that blows can give/ Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies, Let them live upon their praises.
One in whom persuasion and belief Had ripened into faith, and faith become A passionate intuition.