If
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.
And
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?
Or
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?