They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay：
Ten thousand saw I at a glance，
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced； but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee：
A poet could not but be gay，
In such a jocund company：
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought.
For oft， when on my couch I lie