Many the wonders I this day have seen: <br />The sun, when first he kissed away the tears <br />That filled the eyes of Morn;—the laurelled peers <br />Who from the feathery gold of evening lean;— <br />The ocean with its vastness, its blue green, <br />Its ships, its rocks, its caves, its hopes, its fears, <br />Its voice mysterious, which whoso hears <br />Must think on what will be, and what has been. <br />E'en now, dear George, while this for you I write, <br />Cynthia is from her silken curtains peeping <br />So scantly, that it seems her bridal night, <br />And she her half-discovered revels keeping. <br />But what, without the social thought of thee, <br />Would be the wonders of the sky and sea?<br /><br />John Keats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-i-to-my-brother-george/
