A Thing of Beauty A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

Therefore, on every morn, are we wreathing A flowery band to bind us to the earth, So long as we are human, and have birth.

And we are born into a world of woe, And we are born to see, and suffer so; Yet every time we hear the throstle’s song, Or see the sunlight through the trees, we know These things are real; our dreams are not entirely wrong.

By the beauty and the love that nature gives, We learn to live, and know that beauty lives.

• John Keats