Listen beyond the seemingly archaic form of the language Shelley used to hear what he is actually saying here. This is quite a poem. Enjoy!
The Call of the Open
by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Which yet joined not scent to hue,
Crown the pale year weak and new;
When the night is left behind
In the deep east, dun and blind,
And the blue noon is over us,
And the multitudinous
Billows murmur at our feet,
Where the earth and ocean meet,
And all things seem only one
In the universal sun.