Poet and artist think and care not whether
Things hold in truth the glory that they show;
Beauty and beauteous thoughts will go together,
While to one scene a thousand memories flow;
Long spirit-strains from one wild note shall grow,
Magnificent tempests from one cloudy feather,
From one bright ray the sunset's perfect glow,
Hymettian thyme-beds from one plant of heather.
Into one scene a thousand memories flow!
Held we but this reflection at our hearts,
And beauty never past without regard,
No place would lack illuminated parts,
And inward grace with outer mingle so,
That nature should be never dark or hard.