When we were idlers with the loitering rills,
The need of human love we little noted:
...Our love was nature; and the peace that floated
On the white mist, and dwelt upon the hills,
To sweet accord subdued our wayward will:
...One soul was ours, one mind, one heart devoted,
...That, wisely doting, ask'd not why it doted,
And ours the unknown joy, which knowing kills.
But now I find how dear thou wert to me;
...That man is more than half of nature's treasure,
Of that fair beauty which no eye can see,
...Of that sweet music which no ear can measure;
...And now the streams may sing for others' pleasure,
The hills sleep on in their eternity.
-- Hartley Coleridge
