Where gone the rippling sunlit streams, That filter through and crinkle down? Whence hast thou taken my dreams Of dewdrops over the lilac crown?
O flowing pearls of murmuring love, Nestled in the prayers of trees, Labors of fruit above, And cast wide under heart’s ease.
To hold but what my heart may touch, To straddle softly, in love with sin; In every step I pray so much, Keepge this rhythm as it begins!
— The Silence of Nature
- John Keats