O who will show me those delights on high?
      ECHO.           I.
Thou Echo, thou art mortal, all men know.
      ECHO.           No.
Wert thou not born among the trees and leaves?
      ECHO.           Leaves.
And are there any leaves, that still abide?
      ECHO.           Bide.
What leaves are they? impart the matter wholly.
      ECHO.           Holy.
Are holy leaves the Echo then of bliss?
      ECHO.           Yes.
Then tell me, what is that supreme delight ?
      ECHO.           Light.
Light to the mind: what shall the will enjoy?
      ECHO.           Joy.
But are there cares and business with the pleasure?
      ECHO.           Leisure.
Light, joy, and leisure; but shall they persever?
      ECHO.           Ever.

by George Herbert 1593-1633
source: The Poetical Works Of George Herbert, ed. George Gilfillan. Edinburgh: James Nichol, 1853

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