I have so much of you in my heart. - John Keats

I stood tip-toe 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 scantly leaved, and finely tapering stems,
Had not yet lost those starry diadems
Caught from the early sobbing of the morn.

I can scarcely bid you good-bye, even in a letter. I always made an awkward bow. God bless you!

My imagination is a monastery, and I am its monk