No fiction was it of the antique age:
	        A sky-blue stone, within this sunless cleft,
	        Is of the very footmarks unbereft
	        Which tiny Elves impressed;--on that smooth stage
	        Dancing with all their brilliant equipage
	        In secret revels--haply after theft
	        Of some sweet Babe--Flower stolen, and coarse Weed left
	        For the distracted Mother to assuage
	        Her grief with, as she might!--But, where, oh! where
	        Is traceable a vestige of the notes
	        That ruled those dances wild in character?--
	        Deep underground? Or in the upper air,
	        On the shrill wind of midnight? or where floats
	        O'er twilight fields the autumnal gossamer?
					The Faery Chasm (whole poem)

		O blessed Bird! the earth we pace
		Again appears to be
		An unsubstantial, faery place;
		That is fit home for Thee!
					To the Cuckoo (lines 29-32)


		Where fairy water-breaks do murmur on
		For ever; and I saw the sparkling foam
					Nutting (lines 33-34)

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