There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream 

The earth, and every common sight, 

To me did seem 

Apparelled in celestial light,

The glory and the freshness of a dream. 

It is not now as it hath been of yore;

Turn wheresoe'er I may, 

By night or day, 

The things which I have seen I now can see no more. 

The Rainbow comes and goes, 

And lovely is the Rose, 

The Moon doth with delight

Look round her when the heav ens 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.    (Wordsworth)