O Solitude!
O Solitude! If I must with thee dwell, let it not be among the jumbled heap of murky buildings; climb with me the steep,— nature’s observatory—whence the dell, its flowery slopes, its river’s crystal swell, may seem a span; let me thy vigils keep ’mongst boughs pavillion’d, where the deer’s swift leap startles the wild bee from the fox-glove bell. But though I’ll gladly trace these scenes with thee, yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind, whose words are images of thoughts refin’d, is my soul’s pleasure; and it sure must be almost the highest bliss of human-kind, when to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee. — John Keats

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Ⓥ vegan