The fairest, brightest, hues of ether fade; <br />The sweetest notes must terminate and die; <br />O Friend! thy flute has breathed a harmony <br />Softly resounded through this rocky glade; <br />Such strains of rapture as the Genius played <br />In his still haunt on Bagdad's summit high; <br />He who stood visible to Mirza's eye, <br />Never before to human sight betrayed. <br />Lo, in the vale, the mists of evening spread! <br />The visionary Arches are not there, <br />Nor the green Islands, nor the shining Seas: <br />Yet sacred is to me this Mountain's head, <br />Whence I have risen, uplifted, on the breeze <br />Of harmony, above all earthly care.<br /><br />William Wordsworth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-fairest-brightest-hues-of-ether-fade/
