Continous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
Tjey stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet ould not but be gay,
In such a jocund company;
O gazed - and gazed - but little thought
What wealth the show to me had bought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensixe mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,