Bright star! would I were steadfast as thou art— Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night, And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite, The moving waters at their priestlike task Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores, Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask Of snow upon the mountains and the moors;— No—yet still steadfast, evergreen, I see The science of happiness, in the trees: The ancient magic, of the earth, and me.

Yet do I love thee with all my heart, As we, through nature, shall never depart.

• John Keats