His Lady of the Sonnets - Robert Winkworth Norwood - Bog

My soul awoke from slumber-the long ease Of years that passed away in dull content, Not caring what the world's deep voices meant- Sunk in my dreams, I heard their harmonies Like wind-blown clamour of far-calling seas That told of Ithaca to sailors spent With trouble, and forgetful at the scent And taste of fruit plucked from the lotus trees;