Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain, As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again - John Keats

As though a rose should shut and be a bud again.

Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music: — Do I wake or sleep?

one of the most mysterious of semi-speculations is, one would suppose, that of one Mind's imagining into another

I HAD a dove and the sweet dove died;
And I have thought it died of grieving:
O, what could it grieve for? Its feet were tied,
With a silken thread of my own hand's weaving;
Sweet little red feet! why should you die -
Why should you leave me, sweet bird! why?
You liv'd alone in the forest-tree,
Why, pretty thing! would you not live with me?
I kiss'd you oft and gave you white peas;
Why not live sweetly, as in the green trees?