Shadow-Nets
The Inn of Dreams
When I was wandering on the Downs to-dayI saw the pine-woods sleeping in the sun . . .For they were tired of weaving shadow-nets—Weaving all day in vain . . . in vain . . . in vain . . .Pale phantom nets to snare the golden sun!And then I thought of how the poets weaveWith shadowy words their cunning nets of song,Hoping to catch, at last, a shining dream!