Recited at the end of Nicholas Roeg's 1971 film of the book, Walkabout, this poem by A. E. Housman is a beautiful meditation on memory and the past. I won't spoil it by writing much myself - suffice it to say, you can read into it what you like (like most literature). But I read it as a mourning of lost childhood, and the innocence that dies with the inevitable process of "growing up"...
INTO my heart on air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?
That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.
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