This text comes from The Poetical Works of John Keats, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
What more felicity can fall to creature
Than to enjoy delight with liberty!
Fate of the Butterfly.—Spenser
Glory and Loveliness have pass'd away;
For if we wander out in early morn,
No wreathed incense do we see upborne
Into the east to meet the smiling day:
No crowd of nymphs soft-voiced and young and gay,
In woven baskets bringing ears of corn,
Roses, and pinks, and violets, to adorn
The shrine of Flora in her early May.
But there are left delights as high as these.
And I shall ever bless my destiny,
That in a time when under pleasant trees
Pan is no longer sought, I feel a free,
A leafy luxury, seeing I could please
With these poor offerings, a man like thee.