1I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way,
2Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring,
3And gentle odours led my steps astray,
4Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring
5Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay
6Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling
7Its green arms round the bosom of the stream,
8But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream.
9There grew pied wind-flowers and violets,
10Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth,
11The constellated flower that never sets;
12Faint oxlips; tender bluebells, at whose birth
13The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets—
14Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth—
15Its mother's face with Heaven's collected tears,
16When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.
17And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine,
18Green cowbind and the moonlight-coloured may,
19And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine
20Was the bright dew, yet drained not by the day;
21And wild roses, and ivy serpentine,
22With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray;
23And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold,
24Fairer than any wakened eyes behold.
25And nearer to the river's trembling edge
26There grew broad flag-flowers, purple pranked with white,
27And starry river buds among the sedge,
28And floating water-lilies, broad and bright,
29Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge
30With moonlight beams of their own watery light;
31And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green
32As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.
33Methought that of these visionary flowers
34I made a nosegay, bound in such a way
35That the same hues, which in their natural bowers
36Were mingled or opposed, the like array
37Kept these imprisoned children of the Hours
38Within my hand,—and then, elate and gay,
39I hastened to the spot whence I had come,
40That I might there present it!—Oh! to whom?
1I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way,
2Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring,
3And gentle odours led my steps astray,
4Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring
5Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay
6Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling
7Its green arms round the bosom of the stream,
8But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream.
9There grew pied wind-flowers and violets,
10Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth,
11The constellated flower that never sets;
12Faint oxlips; tender bluebells, at whose birth
13The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets—
14Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth—
15Its mother's face with Heaven's collected tears,
16When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.
17And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine,
18Green cowbind and the moonlight-coloured may,
19And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine
20Was the bright dew, yet drained not by the day;
21And wild roses, and ivy serpentine,
22With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray;
23And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold,
24Fairer than any wakened eyes behold.
25And nearer to the river's trembling edge
26There grew broad flag-flowers, purple pranked with white,
27And starry river buds among the sedge,
28And floating water-lilies, broad and bright,
29Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge
30With moonlight beams of their own watery light;
31And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green
32As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.
33Methought that of these visionary flowers
34I made a nosegay, bound in such a way
35That the same hues, which in their natural bowers
36Were mingled or opposed, the like array
37Kept these imprisoned children of the Hours
38Within my hand,—and then, elate and gay,
39I hastened to the spot whence I had come,
40That I might there present it!—Oh! to whom?
I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way,
Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring,
And gentle odours led my steps astray,
Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring
Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay
Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling
Its green arms round the bosom of the stream,
But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream.
There grew pied wind-flowers and violets,
Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth,
The constellated flower that never sets;
Faint oxlips; tender bluebells, at whose birth
The sod scarce heaved;
and that tall flower that wets—
Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth—
Its mother's face with Heaven's collected tears,
When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.
And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine,
Green cowbind and the moonlight-coloured may,
And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine
Was the bright dew, yet drained not by the day;
And wild roses, and ivy serpentine,
With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray;
And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold,
Fairer than any wakened eyes behold.
And nearer to the river's trembling edge
There grew broad flag-flowers, purple pranked with white,
And starry river buds among the sedge,
And floating water-lilies, broad and bright,
Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge
With moonlight beams of their own watery light;
And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green
As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.
Methought that of these visionary flowers
I made a nosegay, bound in such a way
That the same hues, which in their natural bowers
Were mingled or opposed, the like array
Kept these imprisoned children of the Hours
Within my hand,
—and then, elate and gay,
I hastened to the spot whence I had come,
That I might there present it!—Oh! to whom?
Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
Listen to the Poem Out Loud — A recording of "The Question" set to music.
A Biography of the Poet — The Poetry Foundation on Shelley's life and career.
A Brief Guide to Romanticism — Read about the poetic movement of which Shelley was a part.
Read Shelley's "A Defence of Poetry" — A famous essay in which Shelley argues for the importance of poetry and the imagination.
Shelley's Posthumous Fame and Legacy — An article written for the 200th anniversary of Shelley's death.