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:

Ode on Intimations of Immortality  William Wordsworth 1770-1850

John Barry: Somewhere in Time Soundtrack