The Isle

There was a little lawny islet

By anemone and violet,

Like mosaic, paven:

And its roof was flowers and leaves

Which the summer's breath enweaves,

Where nor sun nor showers nor breeze

Pierce the pines and tallest trees,

Each a gem engraven;—

Girt by many an azure wave

With which the clouds and mountains pave

A lake's blue chasm.