An Examination of the Myth of Psyche in Ode to Psyche by John Keats

O Goddess! hear these tuneless amounts, wrung

By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear,

And pardon that thy secrets ought to be sung

Even into thine own soft-conched ear canal:

Surely I dreamt to-evening, or do I see

The winged Psyche with awaken'd eye?

I wander'd in a forest thoughtlessly,

And, on the sudden, fainting with shock,

Saw two fair creatures, couched area by side

In deepest grass, under the whisp'ring roof

Of leaves and trembled blossoms, where there ran

Mid hush'd, cool-rooted flowers, fragrant-eyed,

Blue, silver-white colored, and budded Tyrian,

They lay calm-breathing, on the bedded grass;

Their arms embraced, and their pinions as well;

Their lips touch'd not, but hadn't bade adieu,

As if disjoined by soft-handed slumber,

And ready still previous kisses to outnumber

At tender eye-dawn of aurorean take pleasure in:

But who wast thou, O happy, cheerful dove?

O latest born and loveliest vision