... 

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 fullness of your bliss, I feel -- I feel it all.
        O evil day! if I were sullen
        While the Earth herself is adorning
            This sweet May morning;
        And the children are culling
            On every side,
        In a thousand valleys far and wide,
        Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
And the babe leaps up on his mother's arm: -- 
        I hear, I hear, with joy I hear! 
         -- 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?