You are always new. THe last of your kisses was ever the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest. When you pass'd my window home yesterday, I was fill'd with as much admiration as if I had then seen you for the first time...Even if you did not love me I could not help an entire devotion to you.
John KeatsIn a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity.
John Keats