Lamia Part I 1 It was no sooner said than done. The serpent-form vanished very speedily, And left him there to bask in the sunny shade, Eating the raw pomegranate.

   2 While thoughts were flitting here and there, attempting
 To fix some aspect of the lovely Lamia, Of her three natures,—beast, and woman, and a goddess;   Or by new claims for claiming even pleasure itself.    At once he might watch all glory like a flower: Mixed brightness, ease, and yon smiling Summer's day,
While early on, morning bright, through heat, love's weeds  Were cueing harmless instance of the wood,  There where the streams define love's lonesome banes. 

   3 When, lo! the serpent-form and lovely Lamia   Stripped under dusky sky; and yet did he make her Sweet for the child's look and faithful spring.

Nay, they rarely meek in wisest wood, For tenderest limbs cast verily far into thy weft: Lamia, who smiled toward truth in all, you know!

   4 The charm beyond this gathering crowd, Fit only for sacrifice. For thee, O beloved, as I have known, For thee will I press onward,—even to my death;   Since while such hopes remain in life anew, Thy little hour has always seemed to fill, When love's soft winter weaved sweetly to the dying world. Shall I look on beauty and ever find it lost?   Or cast my eyes continually Upon this temple of strange and lovely hour?

• John Keats