Some story, anything—only your voice.

I shall dream else. Speak on! ay, leaning so!

Fest. Thus the Mayne glideth

Where my Love abideth.

Sleep 's no softer: it proceeds

On through lawns, on through meads,

On and on, whate'er befall,

Meandering and musical,

Though the niggard pasturage

Bears not on its shaven ledge