The Birth of Pleasure
Percy Bysshe Shelley
1792 to 1822
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At the creation of the Earth
Pleasure, that divinest birth,
From the soil of Heaven did rise,
Wrapped in wild melodies—
Like an exhalation wreathing
To the sound air low-breathing
Through Aeolian pines, which make
A shade shelter to the lake
Whence it rises soft and slow;
Her life-breathing [limbs] did flow
In the harmony divine
an ever-lengthening line
Which enwrapped her perfect form
With beauty clear and warm.