How it feels to be communed with nature!

Travelling amidst the heaven full of acer;

Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes
To pace the ground,if path be there or none,
While a fair region round the traveller lies
Which he forbears again to look upon,
The faithful flowers,small to great
May lead the thoughts,thus struggling used to stand;
Of many a furious whirblast sweeping by
Might overwhelm but could not separate
From grandeur meadows which they originate,
The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose
Chattering over stony ways the brook flows;
Murmuring under moon and stars in brambly wildernesses;
Lingering by its shingly bars and loitering round its cresses.
Season of mist and mellow fruitfulness
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun,
Conspiring with Him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run,
In some trodden region of my mind
Is sinking down in its tranquillity;
Journey wreathed in nature is the only thing of beauty I find!