Starry Diadems

I stood tiptoe 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 scanty-leaved and finely tapering stems,
had not yet lost their starry diadems
Caught from the early sobbing of the morn.

The clouds were pure and white as flocks new-shorn,
And fresh from the clear brook; sweetly they slept
On the blue fields of heaven, and then there crept
A little noiseless noise among the leaves,
Born of the very sigh that silences heaves;
For not the faintest motion could be seen
of all the shades that slanted o’er the green.

– John Keats


Psalm 65:7-11
You answer us with awesome deeds of righteousness,
   O God our Savior,
the hope of all the ends of the earth
   and of the farthest seas,
who formed the mountains by your power,
   having armed yourself with strength,

who stilled the roaring of the seas,the roaring of their waves, 
and the turmoil of the nations. 

Those living far away fear your wonders; 
where morning dawns and evening fades 
you call forth songs of joy.
You care for the land and water it;you enrich it abundantly.

The streams of God are filled with water to provide the people with grain, 
for so you have ordained it.

You drench its furrows and level its ridges; 

you soften it with showers and bless its crops. 

You crown the year with your bounty, and your carts overflow with abundance.


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