Shaking from my tingling limbs

Showers of scintillating drops

Over radiant, dewy beds

Of the snowy cyclamen,

And dark-red anemone,

Till my tawny body glowed

With warm, ruddy, pulsing life.

And then again I sought the stream,

And plunged; and now, more boldly,

I crossed the pool, with easy stroke;

And climbed the further crag;

And, turning, plunged again.

And so, I dived and swam,

Till pangs of hunger pricked

My idle fancy homeward:

And eagerly I climbed the hill;

When, not a sling's throw from the cavern,

Stooping to pluck a red anemone,

To prank the wet, black tangle of my hair,

I heard a shout;

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