On A Dream

ON A DREAM
By John Keats

As Hermes once took to his feathers light,
    When lulled Argus, baffled, swoon’d and slept,
So on a Delphic reed, my idle spright
    So play’d, so charm’d, so conquer’d, so bereft
The dragon-world of all its hundred eyes;
    And seeing it asleep, so fled away,
Not to pure Ida with its snow-cold skies,
    Nor unto Tempe where Jove griev’d that day;
But to that second circle of sad Hell,
    Where in the gust, the whirlwind, and the flaw
Of rain and hail-stones, lovers need not tell
    Their sorrows—pale were the sweet lips I saw,
Pale were the lips I kiss’d, and fair the form
I floated with, about that melancholy storm.