As e’er was mossy bed
Whereon the wood-nymphs lie
With languid limbs in summer’s sultry hours.
Here, too, were living flowers,
Which like a bud compacted,
Their purple cups contracted,
And now, in open blossom spread,
Stretched like green anthers many a seeking head;
And arborets of jointed stone were there,
And plants of fibres fine as silkworm’s thread;