Lured by the love of the genii that move
In the depths of the purple sea;
Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills,
Over the lakes, and the plains,
Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream,
The spirit he loves, remains;
And I all the while bask in heaven’s blue smile,
Whilst he is dissolving in rains.
* * * * *
P. B. Shelley.