TEE POETRY 0? FLOWERS. 
103 
AD 0 N IS’ COUCH. 
BY JOHN KEATS. 
On a silken couch of rosy pride. 
In xnidst of all, there lay a sleeping youth 
Of fondest beauty; fonder in fair sooth, 
Than sighs could fathom, or contentment reach \ 
And coverlids gold-tinted like jhe peach, 
Or ripe October’s faded marigolds, 
Fell sleek about him in a thousand folds— 
Not hiding up an Apollonian curve 
Of neck and shoulder, nor the tending swerve 
Of knee from knee, nor ankles pointing light; 
But rather giving them to the fill’d sight, 
Officiously. Side way his face reposed > 
On one whne arm, and tenderly unclosed, 
By tenderest pressure, a faint damask mouth, 
To slumbery pout; just as the morning south 
Disparts a dew-lipp’d rose. Above his head 
Four lily stalks did their wide honours wed 
To make a coronet; and round him grew 
Ail tendrils green, of every bloom and hue, 
Together intertwined and trammell'd fresh: 
The vine of glossy sprout; the ivy mesh, 
Shading its Ethiop berries; and woodbine, 
Of velvet leaves and bugle blooms divine; 
Convolvulus in streaked vases flush ; 
The creeper, mellowing for an autumn blush; 
