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Poem	Chequer'd with woven shadows as I lay Among the grass, blinking the watery gleam, I saw an Echo-Spirit in his bay Most idly floating in the noontide beam. Slow heaved his filmy skiff, and fell, with sway Of ocean's giant pulsing, and the Dream, Buoyed like the young moon on a level stream Of greenish vapour at decline of day, Swam airily, watching the distant flocks Of sea-gulls, whilst a foot in careless sweep Touched the clear-trembling cool with tiny shocks, Faint-circling; till at last he dropt asleep, Lull'd by the hush-song of the glittering deep, Lap-lapping drowsily the heated rocks.
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