Splendour in the Grass William Wordsworth What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now forever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower? I 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, In years that bring the philosophic mind.