Eve to Adam:

     With thee conversing, I forget all time,
     All seasons, and their change; all please alike.
     Sweet is the breath of Morn, her rising sweet,
     With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the Sun,
     When first on this delightful land he spreads
     His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower,
     Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertil Earth
     After soft showers; and sweet the coming on
     Of grateful Evening mild; then silent Night,
     With this her solemn bird, and this fair Moon,
     And these the gems of Heaven, her starry train:
     But neither breath of Morn, when she ascends
     With charm of earliest birds; nor rising Sun
     On this delightful land; nor herb, fruit, flowr,
     Glistering with dew; nor fragrance after showers;
     Nor grateful Evening mild; nor silent Night,
     With her solemn bird; nor walk by moon,
     Or glittering star-light, without thee is sweet.

Paradise Lost, Book IV, lines 639-56