There in close covert by some brook1
Where no profander eye may look,2
Hide me from day’s garish eye,3
While the bee with honey’d thigh4
That at her flowery works doth sing,5
And the waters murmuring,6
With such consort as they keep7
Entice the dewy-feathered sleep ;8
And let some strange mysterious dream9
Wave at his wings in airy stream10
Of lively portraiture displayed,11
Softly on my eyelids laid :12
And as I wake, sweet music breathe13
Above, about, or underneath,14
Sent by some spirit to mortals good,15
Or the unseen genius of the wood.16