Which with silver waters thin
Clips a little marble Naiad, sitting smilingly within.
Whence the music came, who knoweth?
I know nothing. But indeed
Pan or Faunus never bloweth
So much sweetness from a reed
Which has sucked the milk of waters, at the oldest river-head.
Never lark the sun can waken
With such sweetness! when the lark,
The high planets overtaking