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 commeth 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:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy.
It is true
I was created in you.
It is also true
That you were created for me.
I owned your voice
It was shaped and tuned to soothe me.
Your arms were molded
In a cradle to hold me, to rock me.
The scent of your body was the air
Perfumed for me to breathe.