That dome in air—
That sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice—
I must not venture to say, lest I should suddenly find myself, 'like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,' floundering in depths whither few will care to follow me.
The dream lasted for an hour, and the boy came to himself with a start, for an image, which he did not in the least wish to detain, was haunting him. He sprang up, gave himself a shake like a dog after a swim, and went slowly towards the boat-house, murmuring, as he walked, the words which had called up the unwelcome image—
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon lover!
'I wonder why that always makes me think of Vivien Leigh,' he said to himself with a perplexed smile. 'I couldn't imagine her wailing for any one, least of all a lover, demon or human. Perhaps it's because she's a little inhuman herself. I'm sure she would have been put down as a witch in the middle ages.' He began to whistle a lively air to put Vivien out of his head. Then her image was expelled by another.
Her face resigned to bliss or bale—
Her face, oh call it fair not pale,
And both blue eyes more bright than clear,
Each about to have a tear.
'What a contrast!' he said to himself, as he stooped over his boat to loosen the painter. 'She is human—exquisitely, beautifully human.'
At this moment he heard his mother calling him, and, tying up his boat again, he went out of the boat-house and on to the lawn.
'Tom, Tom! where are you?' She looked flushed and excited and out of breath.
'Here I am, mother!' he said. 'I thought you were at the Eltons. I was just going to take my boat round and see if any one was in. You look tired, dear. Come and sit down by the river.'