Wordsworth: Our birth is but a sleep…

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….

Please read these exquisite lines aloud when you come across them. Let what they are expressing sing to you… Let this support you in your own remembering: not just who you are, but also what you are in this precious body, this lifetime, this life.

Some of you may be interested to know that not Wordsworth but Rainer Maria Rilke called God (among many other names): “You, the great homesickness we could never shake off…” That rings accurately to me.

I include both the Wordsworth and this commentary in extended form in In the Company of Rilke.

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