Now I would dream that I awake
In scent of cool night air,
Above me star-clouds close and break;
Beneath--where am I, where?
A strange delight pervades my breast,
Of ancient pictures dim,
Where fair forms on the waters rest,
Or in the breezes swim.

I rest on arms as soft as strong,
Great arms of woman-mould;
My head is pillowed whence a song,
In many a rippling fold,
O'erfloods me from its bubbling spring:
A Titan goddess bears
Me, floating on her unseen wing,
Through gracious midnight airs.

And I am borne o'er sleeping seas,
O'er murmuring ears of corn,
Over the billowy tops of trees,
O'er roses pale till morn.
Over the lake--ah! nearer float,
Down on the water's breast;
Let me look deep, and gazing doat
On that white lily's nest.

The harebell's bed, as o'er we pass,
Swings all its bells about;