Thou hast not rais'd, Ianthe, such desire <br />In any breast as thou hast rais'd in mine. <br />No wandering meteor now, no marshy fire, <br />Leads on my steps, but lofty, but divine: <br />And, if thou chillest me, as chill thou dost <br />When I approach too near, too boldly gaze, <br />So chills the blushing morn, so chills the host <br />Of vernal stars, with light more chaste than <br />day's.<br /><br />Walter Savage Landor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/thou-hast-not-raised/
