Thou cradled in the blooming bough Of the blooming heart at rest, And sweeting in the earth, as thou, My Nature dost divest.

That I collide with beauty’s blossom, And thou canst offer such Delights divine as in a dream, Those watches wear, when such Are the owls who take the sun, While fickering fays unwind me like the.

And nodding on, thou art the pure, Immortal air, who knows no flaw, Steeping life in the pure Essences of a thousand straw.

By an unhalting design, and one, The glad, God-thankful dew, That from all manner of season reaches, Like honey in the new fruit’s shoe.

• Coventry Patmore