Like a pearl in an ocean-shell.
To such sweet signs might the time have flow’d
In a golden current on,
Ere from the garden, man’s first abode,
The glorious guests were gone.
So might the days have been brightly told—
Those days of song and dreams—
When shepherds gather’d their flocks of old
By the blue Arcadian streams.
So in those isles of delight, that rest