Two passages from my favourate poem-The Eve of St Agnes by John Keats
Full on this casement shone the wintry moon,
And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast,
As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon;
Rose-bloom fell on her her hands, togather prest'
and on her silver cross soft amethyst,
and on her hair a glory,like a saint;
she seemed a splendid angel, newly drest,
save wings,for heaven;-Porphyro grew faint;
she knelt,so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.
Anon her heart revives;her vespers done,
of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees;
unclasps her warmed jewels one by one;
loosens her fragrant bodice:by degrees
her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees;
half hidden like a mermaid in sea-weed,
Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees, and sees,
in fancy,fair saint Agnes in her bed,
but dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled.