Bryan Procter — English Poet born on November 21, 1787, died on October 05, 1874

Bryan Waller Procter was an English poet... (wikipedia)

There's not a wind but whispers of thy name; And not a flow'r that grows beneath the moon, But in its hues and fragrance tells a tale Of thee, my love.
Oh, the summer night, Has a smile of light, And she sits on a sapphire throne.
Touch us gently, Time! Let us glide adown thy stream, Gently, - as we sometimes glide Through a quiet dream!
O human beauty, what a dream art thou, that we should cast our life and hopes away on thee!
I never was on the dull, tame shore, But I loved the great sea more and more.