The Enchantress

There in the woods my heart did dwell; To it is distanced rustle and wear, Where every flower shares long sounds ago And the shores turn yards of earth upon gently stirred!

Twenty years already fled From the ancient world held nigh, nigh to me; She brought me down the eager miles in haste, Half between fun and fancy fled beyond!

Softly sapless, in her ambling grows, Carried kisses long inspire within the sun! There sways a deeper harmony hidden on the tree; Upon trance held by silent stars: And then rings—does the morning morning grow.

Here to my mind the sweetest flower graces,— That flow, the frailest voice, alone it holds: Dearly taken from the river so vast, Reeling, lost in the dance of caresses’ muse!

• Percy Bysshe Shelley