let it not be among the jumbled heap
of murky buildings. Climb with me the steep-
Nature's observatory- whence the dell,
its flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell
may seem a span; let me thy vigils keep
'mongst boughs pavilioned, where the deer's swift leap
startles the wild bee from the foxglove bell.
But though I'll gladly trace these scenes with thee,
yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind
whose words are images of thoughts refined
is my soul's pleasure, and it sure must be
almost the highless bliss of human-kind
when to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.
(J. Keats)
