The
Moon, how definite its orb!
Yet
gaze again, and with a steady gaze--
'Tis
there indeed,--but where is it not?--
It
is suffused o'er all the sapphire Heaven,
Trees,
herbage, snake-like stream, unwrinkled Lake,
Whose
very murmur does of it partake
And
low and close the broad smooth mountain
Is
more a thing of Heaven than when
Distinct
by one dim shade and yet undivided from the universal cloud
In
which it towers, finite in height.
- Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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