Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody,
So sweet, we know not we are listening to it,
Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my Thought,
Yea, with my Life and Life’s own secret joy:
Till the dilating Soul, enrapt, transfused,
Into the mighty vision passing—there
As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaven.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge: Hymn Before Sunrise, in the Vale of Chamouni
A blessed Ostara/Alban Eiler/Mabon/Whateverthehel you’re celebrating.