Real are the dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass Their pleasures in a long immortal dream.

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.

O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet my song comes native with the warmth. O fret not after knowledge - I have none, and yet the Evening listens.

O magic sleep! O comfortable bird, That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind Till it is hush'd and smooth!

Real are the dreams of Gods, and smoothly pass Their pleasures in a long immortal dream.

There's a blush for won't, and a blush for shan't, and a blush for having done it: There's a blush for thought and a blush for naught, and a blush for just begun it.

So rainbow-sided, touch'd with miseries, She seem'd, at once, some penanced lady elf, Some demon's mistress, or the demon's self.