Autores:
  • 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.

    John Keats, Helen Vendler (1990). “Poetry Manuscripts at Harvard”, p.32, Harvard University Press