"...trailing clouds of glory"

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...

-William Wordsworth (1770-1850),

from his poem: Ode on Intimations of Immortality