| Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury. 1875. |
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| P. B. Shelley |
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| CCLXXVII. The Poet's Dream |
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| ON a Poet's lips I slept, | |
| Dreaming like a love-adept | |
| In the sound his breathing kept; | |
| Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses, | |
| But feeds on the aerial kisses | 5 |
| Of shapes that haunt Thought's wildernesses. | |
| He will watch from dawn to gloom | |
| The lake-reflected sun illume | |
| The yellow bees in the ivy-bloom, | |
| Nor heed nor see what things they be— | 10 |
| But from these create he can | |
| Forms more real than living man, | |
| Nurslings of Immortality! | |
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