Page:Poems on Various Subjects - Coleridge (1796).djvu/100



S late each flower that sweetest blows I pluck'd, the Garden's pride! Within the petals of a Rose A sleeping Love I 'spied.

Around his brows a beamy wreath Of many a lucent hue; All purple glow'd his cheek, beneath, Inebriate with the dew.

I softly seiz'd th' unguarded Power, Nor scar'd his balmy rest; And plac'd him, cag'd within the flower, On spotless breast.