Or thou might'st better listen to the wind, Whose language is to thee a barren noise, Though it blows legend-laden through the trees.
John KeatsYou 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 Keats