Glory and loveliness have pass'd away; <br />For if we wander out in early morn, <br />No wreathed incense do we see upborne <br />Into the east, to meet the smiling day: <br />No crowd of nymphs soft voic'd and young, and gay, <br />In woven baskets bringing ears of corn, <br />Roses, and pinks, and violets, to adorn <br />The shrine of Flora in her early May. <br />But there are left delights as high as these, <br />And I shall ever bless my destiny, <br />That in a time, when under pleasant trees <br />Pan is no longer sought, I feel a free, <br />A leafy luxury, seeing I could please <br />With these poor offerings, a man like thee.<br /><br />John Keats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dedication-to-leigh-hunt-esq/
