There was a roaring in the wind all night The rain came. To me the meanest flower that blows can give Intimations of Immortality by William Wordsworth: (Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. Then will hang on every stalk, Each within its leafy bower And for that promise spare the flower. Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, Often in Wordsworth’s poetry, his intense imaginative effort translates into the great. He believed that a strong imaginative life is essential for our well-being. Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Wordsworth saw imagination as a powerful, active force that works alongside our senses, interpreting the way we view the world and influencing how we react to events. Which having been must ever be, In the soothing. Strength in what remains behind, In the primal sympathy. Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower, We will grieve not, rather find. The people who named 'Splendour in the Grass' likely had none of that in mind. In his poem My Heart Leaps Up, he famously wrote 'The Child is father of the Man', implying that were pure in our precious early years before world-weariness sets in and the grass is no longer so splendid. The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, ) Wordsworth was obsessed with youth in other poems too. ( Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting William Wordsworth - Though nothing can bring back the hourOf splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower We will grieve not, rather findStrength in what remains behind In the primal sympathyWhich having been must ever be. Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering In the faith that looks through death, Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.' 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 feelI feel it all. ( 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. Norman and Reverend John Maclean recite various excerpts strung together from the poem 'Ode: Intimations of Immortality' by William Wordsworth: After Norman gets his job offer letter from the University of Chicago, he goes into the house to find his father reading aloud in his study.

Glory in the flower wordsworth