The first stanza Of "Endymion" by Keats
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep. A bower quiet for us, and a sleep. Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing. A flowery band to bind us to the earth, Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth. Of noble natures, of the gloomy days, Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways. Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,Some shape of beauty moves away the pall. From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon. Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon. For simple sheep; and such are daffodils. With the green world they live in; and clear rills. That for themselves a cooling covert make' Gainst the hot season; the mid forest brake, Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms: And such too is the grandeur of the dooms. We have imagined for the mighty dead; All lovely tales that we have heard or read :An endless fountain of immortal drink, Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.
about a mortal of unsurpassing beauty who was loved by the Moon and granted eternal beauty in an endless sleep.