On A Dream

by John Keats

　　

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As Hermes once took to his feathers light When lulled Argus, baffled, swoon'd and slept, So on a Delphic reed my idle spright So play'd, so charm'd, so conquer'd, so bereft The dragon-world of all its hundred eyes, And, seeing it asleep, so fled away: Not to pure Ida with its snow-cold skies, Nor unto Tempe where Jove griev'd a day; But to that second circle of sad hell, Where 'mid the gust, the whirlwind, and the flaw Of rain and hail-stones, lovers need not tell Their sorrows. Pale were the sweet lips I saw, Pale were the lips I kiss'd, and fair the form I floated with, about that melancholy storm.

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