Wordsworth

Going out to dinner. No time for thinking up something to write. However, that may be a blessing as I have had some of Wordsworth's words (huh?) going around in my head today and so I will post my fave part from his "Ode to Immortality". Here 'tis:

"Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour 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,
In years that bring the philosophic mind."

Is that lovely, or is that lovely?