And where swift-footed hours
Steal the rich breath of the enamored flowers;
Dream I—nor where the golden glories be,
At sunset paving o’er the flowing sea,
And to pure eyes the faculty is giv’n
To trace the smooth ascent from earth to heaven.
Not on the couch of ease,
With all appliances of joys at hand;
Soft light, sweet fragrance, beauty at command,
Viands that might a god-like palate please,