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.