The Question

I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way,Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring,And gentle odours led my steps astray,Mixed with a sound of waters murmuringAlong a shelving bank of turf, which lay5Under a copse, and hardly dared to flingIts green arms round the bosom of the stream,But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream.

There grew pied wind-flowers and violets,Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth,10The constellated flower that never sets;Faint oxslips; tender bluebells, at whose birthThe sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets--Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth--Its mother's face with Heaven's collected tears,15When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.

And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine,Green cowbind and the moonlight-coloured may,And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wineWas the bright dew, yet drained not by the day;20And wild roses, and ivy serpentine,With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray;And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold,Fairer than any wakened eyes behold.

And nearer to the river's trembling edge25There grew broad flag-flowers, purple pranked with white.And starry river buds among the sedge,And floating water-lilies, broad and bright,Which lit the oak that overhung the hedgeWith moonlight beams of their own watery light;30And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep greenAs soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.

Methought that of these visionary flowersI made a nosegay, bound in such a wayThat the same hues, which in their natural bowers35Were mingled or opposed, the like arrayKept these imprisoned children of the HoursWithin my hand,--and then, elate and gay,I hastened to the spot whence I had come,That I might there present it!--Oh! to whom?40