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.
—But there’s a tree, of many, one,
A single field which I have look’d upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
The pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
credits…
Poem: ‘’Ode on Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood’’ – William Wordsworth.
Soundtrack: “I was never going to go to Africa” – Abel Korzeniowski
***Watch this powerful poetry within Penny Dreadful… https://youtu.be/E-3mP1Gd8IA
mortonica 