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 morrow,are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence,og the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures,of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways
Made for our searching:yes,in spite og all,

Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits.Such the sun,the moon,
Trees old and young ,sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep;and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in;and clear rills
That for themselves a coolimg covert make
Gainst the hot season;the mid forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:

And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.


Love all human kind : )
Love and Peace ; )
To Endymion