Dream, and so dream all night without a stir.

Hyperion. Book i.

The days of peace and slumberous calm are fled.

Hyperion. Book ii.

Dance and Provençal song and sunburnt mirth!

Oh for a beaker full of the warm South,

Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene!

With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,

And purple-stainèd mouth.

Ode to a Nightingale.