Quote by John Keats

"I stood tiptoe upon a little hill, The air was cooling, and so very still That the sweet buds which with a modest pride Pull droopingly, in slanting curve aside, Their scantly-leaved and finely tapering stems, Had not yet lost those starry diadems Caught from the early sobbing of the morn."

— John Keats, from 'I stood tiptoe upon a little hill'

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