I Dreamed That Each Most Lovely, Perfect Thing That Nature Hath, Of Sound, And Form, And Hue - The Winds, The Grass, The Light-Concentering Dew, The Gleam And Swiftness Of The Sea-Bird'S Wing; Blueness Of Sea And Sky, And Gold Of Storm Transmuted By The Sunset, And The Flame Of Autumn-Colored Leaves, Before Me Came, And, Meeting, Merged To One Diviner Form. Incarnate Beauty 'Twas, Whose Spirit Thrills Through Glaucous Ocean And The Greener Hills, And In The Cloud-Bewildered Peaks Is Pent. Like Some Descended Star She Hovered O'Er, But As I Gazed, In Doubt And Wonderment, Mine Eyes Were Dazzled, And I Saw No More.