The grass was deepest browsed—gave to the young,
Reposing there, an Eden-hour, and brightly hung,
Round age’s mem’ries, as at eventide,
By lighted lamps, glow carved transparencies.
I felt the perfume-freighted zephyrs glide
On tiptoe by me from the midst of these:
And as they whispered lowly, by degrees
My brain grew dizzy with felicity;
And fancy, with the warm realities,
Mingled such floating, fairy imagery,