Page:Prometheus Unbound - Shelley.djvu/60

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FOURTH SPIRIT
      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 aërial kisses
      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;
      But from these create he can
      Forms more real than living man,
      Nurslings of immortality!
      One of these awakened me,
      And I sped to succor thee.

IONE
      Behold'st thou not two shapes from the east and west
      Come, as two doves to one belovèd nest,
      Twin nurslings of the all-sustaining air,
      On swift still wings glide down the atmosphere?
      And, hark! their sweet sad voices! 't is despair
      Mingled with love and then dissolved in sound.