[Hide me from day’s garish eye],
[While the bee with honeyed thigh],
That at her flowery work doth sing,
And the waters murmuring,
With such consort as they keep, 145
[Entice the dewy-feathered Sleep].
And let some strange mysterious dream
Wave at [his] wings, in airy stream
Of lively portraiture displayed,
Softly on my eyelids laid; 150