Within these walls
A poet slept and
Visions of angels
Crept into his dreams
Distant lands
And tigers
Lambs
and chimney sweeps
Painted themselves
Upon his silent canvas
Made their mark on his mind
Wended their way
Through London streets
Along ancient shores
And while he slumbered
Poems formed within -
Golden rhymes
Iambic rhythms
Carved themselves
Into life
That upon his waking
Would flood the page
With violent beauty
And storm the walls of new Albion.