The sensitive plant

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

And the Earth was all rest, and the air was all love,

And delight, though less bright, was far more deep,

And the day’s veil fell from the world of sleep,

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And the beasts, and the birds, and the insects were drowned

In an ocean of dreams without a sound;

Whose waves never mark, though they ever impress

The light sand which paves it, consciousness;