admiration.

John Keats - Ode to Psyche (part 1)

GODDESS! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung

By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear,

And pardon that thy secrets should be sung

Even into thine own soft-conchèd ear:

Surely I dream'd to-day, or did I see

The wingèd Psyche with awaken'd eyes?

I wander'd in a forest thoughtlessly,

And, on the sudden, fainting with surprise,

Saw two fair creatures, couchèd side by side

In deepest grass, beneath the whisp'ring roof

Of leaves and trembled blossoms, where there ran

A brooklet, scarce espied:

'Mid hush'd, cool-rooted flowers, fragrant-eyed,

Blue, silver-white, and budded Tyrian

They lay calm-breathing on the bedded grass;

Their arms embracèd, and their pinions too;

Their lips touch'd not, but had not bade adieu,

As if disjoinèd by soft-handed slumber,

And ready still past kisses to outnumber

At tender eye-dawn of aurorean love:  

The wingèd boy I knew;

But who wast thou, O happy, happy dove?

His Psyche true!