A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases;
It will never Pass into nothingness;
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence,
Of the inhuman dearth of noble natures,
Of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall.
John Keats
1 comment:
Beautiful picture and the words go perfectly with it!
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