Who loves to peer up at the morning sun, <br />With half-shut eyes and comfortable cheek, <br />Let him with this sweet tale full often seek <br />For meadows where the little rivers run; <br />Who loves to linger with that brightest one <br />Of Heaven -- Hesperus -- let him lowly speak <br />These numbers to the night and starlight meek, <br />Or moon, if that her hunting be begun. <br />He who knows these delights, and, too, is prone <br />To moralize upon a smile or tear, <br />Will find at once a region of his own, <br />A bower for his spirit, and will steer <br />To alleys where the fir-tree drops its cone, <br />Where robins hop, and fallen leaves are sear.<br /><br />John Keats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-on-leigh-hunt-s-poem-the-story-of-rimini/
