AUGUST TWENTIETH

As one enamoured is upborne in dream

O'er lily-paven lakes mid silver mist,

To wondrous music, so this shape might seem

Partly to tread the waves with feet which kissed

The dancing foam; partly to glide along

The air which roughened the moist amethyst,

Or the faint morning beams that fell among

The trees, or the soft shadows of the trees;

And her feet, ever to the ceaseless song

Of leaves, and winds, and waves, and birds, and bees,

And falling drops, moved to a measure new

Yet sweet.

The Triumph of Life

Percy Bysshe Shelley

—

#Poetry #DaybyDay