'The darksome pines that o'er yon rocks reclined
wave high, and murmur to the hollow wind,
the wand'ring streams that shine between the hills,
the grots that echo to the tinkling rills,
the dying gales that pant upon the trees,
the lakes that quiver to the curling breeze;
no more these scenes my meditation aid,
or lull to rest the visionary maid.
But o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves,
long-sounding aisles, and intermingled graves,
Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws
a death-like silence, and dread repose:
Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene,
shades ev'ry flow'r, and darkens ev'ry green,
deepens the murmur of the falling floods,
and breathes a browner horror on the woods...

Ev'n here, where frozen chastity retires,
love finds an altar for forbidden fires.


Fantastic piece by  FeyVaras
poem: excerpt from Eloisa to Abelard by one of my favorite poets Alexander Pope
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