NEREIA
And on the fair broad ledges of the steps,
So that the lifted wavelets now and then
Kiss’d the soft flesh that was as smooth as they:
As they are wont to lie there on calm nights,
With every dimple quiet, every voice
Hushen, and every rounded limb at rest:
Lay little children cluster’d, fast asleep.
As, sometimes, looking down the clear blue depth,
You mark, close-cluster’d in some creviced rock,
Bright sea flowers tossing all their hair abroad:
But, could you raise the rock, and bare the bells,
The rosy bells, of water, you should see
How quietly their life would lock itself
Within them—they would sink upon the rock
And sleep, and never move: even so, they slept,
The tender rosy children.
Higher up,
The soft air, gliding from the garden, bore
Fresh fragrance from the lips of sleeping flowers
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