There is sweet music here that softer falls
Than petals from blown roses on the grass,
Or night-dews on still waters between walls
Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;
Music that gentler on the spirit lies
Than tir'd eyelids upon tir'd eyes;
Music that brings sweet sleep
Down from the blissful skies.
Here are cool mosses deep
And through the moss the ivies creep
And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep,
And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.

~ From "The Lotos-eaters",  Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809 - 1892)

[Photo:  Tiffany Falls, Niagara Escarpment Ancaster]