On a poet's lips I slept

Dreaming like a love adept

In the sound his breathing kept

Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses

But feeds on the a rial kisses

Of shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses

He will watch from dawn to gloom

The lake reflected sun illume

The yellow bees in the ivy bloom

Nor heed nor see what things they be

But from these create he can

Forms more real than living man

Nurslings of immortality