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KING PELLINORE’S LITERARY MAGAZINE














          Ode: Intimations of Immortality
          BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH





          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 heavens 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.

          Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
          And while the young lambs bound
          As to the tabor's sound,







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