Resting through a cold, while breathless,
      he lay in a reverie of lassitude,

Knowing the pure pleasure of 
      a good excuse for sloth,

And, drifting into that lethean land,
      saw himself lying on the sand

By a grotto, when from behind a pillar
      seductively stepped a nubile nymph,

Clothed only in the breeze
      and a garland of golden kelp.

As she approached, she dissolved
      into a dog who shook herself

Into a storm of salty drops
      while seals on their cozy shelves

Bayed and barked their laughter,
      awakening him to the pressing need

To breathe and find his way
      back to his blue-skyed world.


             The image came from this site.