No stir of air was there,
Not so much life as on a summer's day
Robs not one light seed from the feathered grass,
But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
'Hyperion: A Fragment' (1820) bk. 1, l. 7
No stir of air was there,
Not so much life as on a summer's day
Robs not one light seed from the feathered grass,
But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
'Hyperion: A Fragment' (1820) bk. 1, l. 7