THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 103 
ADONIS’ COUCH. 
BY JOHN KEATS. 
Own a silken couch of rosy pride, 
|| In midst 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 the peach, 
| Or ripe October’s faded marigolds, || 
|| Fell sleek abont 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. Sideway his face reposed 
On one whiie 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 
| Tro make a coronet; and round him grew 
All tendrils green, of every bloom and hue, || 
fogether intertwined and trammell’d fresh: li 
The vine of glossy sprout; the ivy mesh, 
Shading its Ethiop berries; and woodbine, 
If velvet leaves and bugle blooms divine ; 
Uenvolvulus in streaked vases flush ; 
The creeper, mellowing for an autumn blush ; 


