Excerpt from Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood by William Wordsworth 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…
literary intimations of immortality, national poetry month, poem, poetry, trailing clouds of glory, william wordsworth