Splendor in the Grass

What though the radiance which was once so bright

Be now for ever taken from my sight

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;

In the soothing thoughts that spring

Out of human suffering; In the faith that looks through death,

In years that bring the philosophic mind.