From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon
Trees old, and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead
All lovely tales that we have heard or read
An endless fountain of immortal drink
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink
Nor do we merely feel these essences
For one short hour; no, even as the trees
That whisper round a temple become soon
Dear as the temple's self, so does the moon
The passion poesy, glories infinite
Haunt us till they become a cheering light
Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast
That, whether there be shine or gloom o'ercast
They always must be with us, or we die
Therefore, 'tis with full happiness that I
Will trace the story of Endymion
The very music of the name has gone
Beauty creates happiness and this emotion is not a temporary feeling, but rather one that can be carried on perpetually.