A Dream of Beauty

I DREAMED that each most lovely, perfect thing

That Nature hath, of sound, and form, and hue—

The winds, the grass, the light-concentering dew,

The gleam and swiftness of the sea-bird’s wing;

Blueness of sea and sky, and gold of storm

Transmuted by the sunset, and the flame

Of autumn-colored leaves, before me came,

And, meeting, merged to one diviner form.

Incarnate Beauty ’twas, whose spirit thrills

Through glaucous ocean and the greener hills,

And in the cloud-bewildered peaks is pent.

Like some descended star she hovered o’er,

But as I gazed, in doubt and wonderment,

Mine eyes were dazzled, and I saw no more.