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Alfred Lord Tennyson – from The Lotus Eaters

A land of streams! Some, like a downward smoke,
Slow dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go;
And some thro' wavering lights and shadows broke,
Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below.
They saw the gleaming river seaward flow
From the inner land; far off, three mountain tops
Three silent pinnacles of aged snow
Stood sunset flush'd; and dew'd with showery drops
Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse.

The charmed sunset lingered low adown
In the red West; thro' mountain clefts the dale
Was seen far inland, and the yellow down
Border'd with palm, and many a winding vale
And meadow, set with slender galingale;
A  land where all things always seemed the same.
And round about the keel with faces pale
Dark faces pale against that rosy flame
The mild eyed melancholy Lotus eaters came

Branches they bore of that enchanted stem,
Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave
To each, but whoso did receive of them
And taste, to him the gushing of the wave
Far far away did seem to mourn and rave
On alien shores; and if his fellow spake,
His voice was thin, as voices from the grave,
And deep-asleep he seem'd, yet all awake,
And music in his ears his beating heart did make