From the body of one guilty deed a thousand ghostly fears and haunting thoughts proceed. - William Wordsworth

Whither is fled the visionary gleam? Where is it now, the glory and the dream?

The good old rule Sufficeth them, the simple plan, That they should take, who have the power, And they should keep who can.

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore; — Turn wheresoe’er I may,
By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more. — But there’s a tree, of many, one,
A single field which I have look’d upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
The pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?