On the grass and flowers, The wood nymph sings her song and sighs, To the whisper of the boughs that rise, That stretch to hold the light of hours.

In coolness woven by the trees, And past the blue sky’s lofty grace, We find a joy in nature’s face, Where all the world moves with the breeze.

Indeed, the haven where we find The flowers blooming strong and free, Bring the sweetest hum of harmony, From nature’s heart so pure and kind.

• John Keats