Sunday 26 August 2012

Surprised by joy – impatient as the wind
I turned to share the transport – Oh! With whom
But thee, long buried in the silent tomb,
That spot which no vicissitude can find?
Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind –
But how could I forget thee? - Through what power, 
Even for the least division of an hour, 
Have I been so beguiled as to be blind 
To my most grievous loss? – That thought's return 
Was the worse pang that sorrow ever bore, 
Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn, 
Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more; 
That neither present time nor years unborn 
Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.

- William Wordsworth


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