"...Sway in a trance of vague deliciousness..."

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"WHY do I make no poems? Good my friend 

Now is there silence through the summer woods,

In whose green depths and lawny solitudes 

The light is dreaming; voicings clear ascend

.
Now from no hollow where glad rivulets wend,

But murmurings low of inarticulate moods,

Softer than stir of unfledged cushat broods,

Breathe, till o'er drowsed the heavy flower-heads 

bend.

Now sleep the crystal and heart-charmed waves

Round white, sunstricken rocks the noontide long,

Or 'mid the coolness of dim lighted caves

Sway in a trance of vague deliciousness;

............................And I,--I am too deep in joy's excess

For the imperfect impulse of a song.

.

Edward Dowden

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