"Through the dancing poppies stole A breeze, most softly lulling to my soul."
"Let us not go hurrying about and collecting honey, bee-like buzzing here and there for a knowledge of what is not to be arrived at, but let us open our leaves like a flower, and be passive and receptive, budding patiently under the eye of Apollo, and taking hints from every noble insect that favours us with a visit - sap will be given us for meat and dew for drink."
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Source: John Keats (2002). “Selected Letters”, p.63, Oxford University Press, USA
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