He leads me on to the dewy grass, Where maiden primroses troop and pass; With a gleesome kiss in his arms he swings Me up 'twixt his eagle-wide rainbow wings: Over a willowy coppice he goes Flicking the hedges of milk-white sloes, Over the blazon of heralding gorse, Deftly he steers his ethereal course Over anemone hillocks, o'er leas, Hyacinth-dimpled, o'er buttercupped leas, Over the ings where forget-me-not eyes Borrow the blue of azureal skies; Over the meadow-flats, higher and higher, Sweeping the strings of the cloud-strung lyre. The lilt of the planets is in mine ear, Crystal dropping on crystal clear: "O Wind, my Lover, My mortal eyes must you surely cover: Such beauty will make me beauty-blind, Protect mine eyes, O my Lover Wind." Then, as I lost my indrawn breath, He swirled me down to the earth beneath, Down thro' the depths of a forest of pine, On to a carpet of celandine. The goldcrests twittered, the squirrels chased, While the lofty pines, brown arms enlaced, Lisped a dryad-taught melody, sung by the sea. Known in the valleys of Arcady. For a little space did my Lover sleep, While the gold-mailed sun with me did keep A radiant watch; but when Eventide In saffron-rose wrapped the woodland side, He started up, and he kissed my neck, Then, bidding me rise at his instant beck, We passed where the sovran oak-trees nod, Where never a human foot has trod, Where birches sway in slenderest grace, That never have seen a mortal's face; Where rivulets hasten in sweet surprise, A wonder beneath my wond'ring eyes; A lakelet trembled beneath my glance, The lily-white elfins ceased their dance; A cherry-tree flung confetti down, And framed for my head a loving crown. Soft-toned bells Called to each other across the fells. While music played on a reeded flute Stilled the air, and the birds were mute. "O leaf-loving Zephyr, whence cometh the mirth Of this melody? Owns my mothering Earth A piper who pipes so alluringly Of beauty that is, of beauty to be? Onward! o'er thousands of blushet-shy daisies, To find this piper of beautiful phrases." 'Mong flocks of goats, and of leaping lambs, The piper sat. Two fierce-horned rams Made a fleecy cushion whereon he sat, And a sleeping ewe made a creamy mat For his hoofed feet. His music ceased. Green were his eyes, and they seemed well pleased As they lit on our forms: