Shone on their slopes so softly; and I knew
One that was carpeted with moss, and leant
To the warm south so fitly, you would look
To find Endymion sleeping. ’Twas indeed
A pleasant place, and when I came to it
And told her, (did I say I was alone?)
That it was faery all, and only made
For her own lovely rest, she laughingly
Proclaimed herself a queen, and with the leaves
Bound her transparent temples for a crown,