I stood tip-toe 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.

"I Stood Tiptoe", l. 1. - Poems (1817)

2. I Stood tip-toe upon a little hill. Keats, John. 1884. The Poetical Works of John Keats[bartleby.com]