Chequer'd with woven shadows as I lay 
Among the grass, blinking the watery gleam, 
I saw an Echo-Spirit in his bay 
Most idly floating in the noontide beam. 
Slow heaved his filmy skiff, and fell, with sway 
Of ocean's giant pulsing, and the Dream, 
Buoyed like the young moon on a level stream 
Of greenish vapour at decline of day, 
Swam airily, watching the distant flocks 
Of sea-gulls, whilst a foot in careless sweep 
Touched the clear-trembling cool with tiny shocks, 
Faint-circling; till at last he dropt asleep, 
Lull'd by the hush-song of the glittering deep, 
Lap-lapping drowsily the heated rocks.