Poem By Kristy Stanford

When we were idlers with the loitering rills,
The need of human love we little noted:
Our love was nature;  and the peace that floated
On the white mist,  and dwelt upon the hills,
To sweet accord subdued our wayward wills:
One soul was ours,  one mind,  one heart devoted,
That,  wisely doting,  ask�d not why it doted,
And ours the unknown joy,  which knowing kills.
But now I find how dear thou wert to me;
That man is more than half of nature�s treasure,
Of that fair beauty which no eye can see,
Of that sweet music which no ear can measure;
And now the streams may sing for others� pleasure,
The hills sleep on in their eternity.

(Hartley Coleridge)


Comments about Friendship

Sweet music can not be measured . good one.

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