By William Wordsworth

Ode On Intimations Of Immortality From Recollections Of Early Childhood
- But there`s a tree, of many, one,
A single field which I have look`d upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
The pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
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