Ye blessed creatures, I have heard the call	 
    Ye to each other make; I see	 
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;	 
    My heart is at your festival,	  
      My head hath its coronal,	 
The fulness of your bliss, I feel -- I feel it all...

Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!	 
        And let the young lambs bound	 
        As to the tabor's sound!	 
We in thought will join your throng,	 
      Ye that pipe and ye that play,	 
      Ye that through your hearts to-day	 
      Feel the gladness of the May!	 
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...

-from William Wordsworth's Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood