What wond’rous life in this I lead! Ripe apples drop about my head; The luscious clusters of the vine Upon my mouth do crush their wine; The nectarine and curious peach Into my hands themselves do reach; Stumbling on melons as I pass, Ensnar’d with flow’rs, I fall on grass. (Andrew Marvell, The Garden)
I find myself walking though a cool green tunnel of foliage. As I emerge into the bright morning I see a lake sparkling ahead of me in the middle distance. I am standing at the top of a steep grassy bank covered in myriads of daffodils, all in full bloom and gleaming yellow gold in the sunlight. The place looks familiar yet altered, enhanced. Turning round I see a garden planted with flowering shrubs, glowing in the sunlight and scenting the air with their heady fragrance. Suddenly I recognize where I am: rus in urbe; a garden which is also a public park, where Basil and I have often walked and enjoyed its salubrious beauty. I walk down the bank of daffodils into a glade of trees surrounding a spring. I stand there for a moment drinking in the cool tranquillity of this oasis.
As the boat glides gently down the river I sink once more into a light trance in which time seems to be suspended. It is too dark to make out anything beyond the banks, though occasionally vague shapes seem to flit past.
Suddenly I am aware that the boat has stopped and is moored to the riverbank. The Boatman raises his hand and indicates that I should disembark. The sky is lightening, colour returning to the scenery, and I step out carefully.
The riverbank is covered with beautiful, tall, lily-white flowers, which emit a subtle fragrance as I brush through them and emerge into a lush meadow. Meanwhile my ear is caught by the sweetest sounds of music.