The cypress, mourning ‘neath the willow’s shade,
Weaves its branch enchanted like a maid;
In marine wonder meets the autumn glow,
Where peaceful scenes of rivers casually flow.

The hills respond like gentle waves at sea,
The sylvan ghosts in shadows dance with glee;
Thus time creeps lightly, ne’er aware of haste—
A quality in Nature, woven deeply chaste.

• George Gordon Lord Byron