A Summer Idyl

We stole away into the quiet wood,
My Dream and I, when all the warm May air
Was palpitating with the thought of June,
And toying with her banners, half unfurled,
On budding staves by rosy heralds borne:
And where the young leaves played at hide-and-seek
With sun and shadow, on a mossy rock
I sat; and my Dream hovered over me
Catching the glint of wings invisible,
And the sweet murmur of inaudible sounds.
She heard the pulse of Violets, and the throb
Of new joy in the heart of ancient Oaks,
And what the Brook said, leaping down the stones,
With gurgled laughter.

           And she saw the shapes
That dance on sunbeams in the twinkling air,
Whose breath it is that makes the twinkling air
Delicious in the depth of summer woods.
And what she saw and heard, by mystic signs
I felt and knew; and when a Naiad there
Touched with her dewy wand the lips of Dream,
They bubbled with faint melody, and o'er-ran
Clear toned with this