"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 cometh 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!"

(William Wordsworth,
Intimations of
Immortality...
excerpt)