HERE I am slave of visions. When noon heat <br />Strikes the red walls, and their environ'd air <br />Lies steep'd in sun; when not a creature dare <br />Affront the fervour, from my dim retreat <br />Where woof of leaves embowers a beechen seat, <br />With chin on palm, and wide-set eyes I stare, <br />Beyond the liquid quiver and the glare, <br />Upon fair shapes that move on silent feet. <br />Those Three strait-robed, and speechless as they pass, <br />Come often, touch the lute, nor heed me more <br />Than birds or shadows heed; that naked child <br />Is dove-like Psyche slumbering in deep grass; <br />Sleep, sleep,--he heeds thee not, yon Sylvan wild <br />Munching the russet apple to its core.<br /><br />Edward Dowden<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-the-garden-ii-visions/
