OUR DEATH IS BUT A SLEEP AND A REMEMBERING
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Our death is but a sleep and a remembering:
The soul that rises with us, our life’s Star
Doth have elsewhere its habitation
And goeth there directly
Not devoid of recollection
Nor bereft of robes and garments
But fully clothed in glory do we go
To our Parents, our Eternal Home
January 14, 2013 William Wordsworth, C. Aaron
© Copyright 2016 caaron. All rights reserved.
Poem / Poetry
Poem / Humor
Essay / Editorial and Opinion
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