For ever gaze on their own drooping eyes,
Reflected in the crystal calm.  The wave
Of the boat’s motion marred their pensive task,
Which naught but vagrant bird, or wanton wind, 410
Or falling spear-grass, or their own decay
Had e’er disturbed before.  The Poet longed
To deck with their bright hues his withered hair,
But on his heart its solitude returned,
And he forbore.  Not the strong impulse hid 415
In those flushed cheeks, bent eyes, and shadowy frame
Had yet performed its ministry:  it hung
Upon his life, as lightning in a cloud
Gleams, hovering ere it vanish, ere the floods
Of night close over it. 
The noonday sun 420
Now shone upon the forest, one vast mass
Of mingling shade, whose brown magnificence
A narrow vale embosoms.  There, huge caves,
Scooped in the dark base of their aery rocks,
Mocking its moans, respond and roar for ever. 425
The meeting boughs and implicated leaves
Wove twilight o’er the Poet’s path, as led
By love, or dream, or god, or mightier Death,
He sought in Nature’s dearest haunt some bank,
Her cradle, and his sepulchre.  More dark 430
And dark the shades accumulate.  The oak,
Expanding its immense and knotty arms,
Embraces the light beech.  The pyramids
Of the tall cedar overarching frame
Most solemn domes within, and far below, 435
Like clouds suspended in an emerald sky,
The ash and the acacia floating hang
Tremulous and pale.  Like restless serpents, clothed
In rainbow and in fire, the parasites,
Starred with ten thousand blossoms, flow around 440
The grey trunks, and, as gamesome infants’ eyes,
With gentle meanings, and most innocent wiles,
Fold their beams round the hearts of those that love,
These twine their tendrils with the wedded boughs
Uniting their close union; the woven leaves 445
Make net-work of the dark blue light of day,
And the night’s noontide clearness, mutable
As shapes in the weird clouds.  Soft mossy lawns
Beneath these canopies extend their swells,
Fragrant with perfumed herbs, and eyed with blooms 450
Minute yet beautiful.  One darkest glen
Sends from its woods of musk-rose, twined with jasmine,
A soul-dissolving odour to invite
To some more lovely mystery.  Through the dell,
Silence and Twilight here, twin-sisters, keep 455
Their noonday watch, and sail among the shades,
Like vaporous shapes half-seen; beyond, a well,
Dark, gleaming, and of most translucent wave,
Images all the woven boughs above,
And each depending leaf, and every speck 460
Of azure sky, darting between their chasms;
Nor aught else in the liquid mirror laves
Its portraiture, but some inconstant star
Between one foliaged lattice twinkling fair,
Or painted bird, sleeping beneath the moon, 465
Or gorgeous insect floating motionless,
Unconscious of the day, ere yet his wings
Have spread their glories to the gaze of noon.