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:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
William Wordsworth (1770-1850). Excerpt from his Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood, as quoted in The Complete Poetical Works, by William Wordsworth ~ Introduction by John Morley. London: Macmillan and Co., 1888.