O, It is pleasant, with a heart at ease, Just after sunset, or by moonlight skies, To make the shifting clouds be what you please, Or let the easily persuaded eyes Own each quaint likeness issuing from the mould Of a friend’s fancy; or, with head bent low, And cheek aslant, see rivers flow of gold, ’Twixt crimson banks; and then a traveller go From mount to mount, through Cloudland, gorgeous land! Or, listening to the tide with closèd sight. Be that blind Bard, who on the Chian strand, By those deep sounds possessed with inward light, Beheld the Iliad and the Odyssey Rise to the swelling of the voiceful sea.
Fancy in Nubibus
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