This pleasant tale is like a little copse: <br />The honied lines do freshly interlace, <br />To keep the reader in so sweet a place, <br />So that he here and there full hearted stops; <br />And oftentimes he feels the dewy drops <br />Come cool and suddenly against his face, <br />And by the wandering melody may trace <br />Which way the tender-legged linnet hops. <br />Oh! What a power hath white simplicity! <br />What mighty power has this gentle story! <br />I, that for ever feel athirst for glory, <br />Could at this moment be content to lie <br />Meekly upon the grass, as those whose sobbings <br />Were heard of none beside the mournful robbins.<br /><br />John Keats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-written-on-a-blank-space-at-the-end-of-chaucer-s-tale-of-the-floure-and-the-lefe/
