Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art—
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—

— John Keats
https://palimpseste.vercel.app/#text/4d27ccc3-94ae-42dc-b8b9-5b84b3424ed3
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