all was good and fair we met,
This earth had been the Paradise
It never look’d to human eyes
Since our first Sun arose and set.
is it that the haze of grief
Makes former gladness loom so great?
The lowness of the present state,
That sets the past in this relief?
that the past will always win
A glory from its being far;
And orb into the perfect star
We saw not, when we moved therein?