Sonett-Forum

To a Friend

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 heard devoted,
That, wisely doating, asked not why it doated,
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.