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beautiful beneath beside blood blue brain breath bright calm changed child clouds cold dark dead death deep delight dream earth eyes faint fair fear fell fire flow flowers follow forest gentle grave green grew grey grief hair half hear heard heart heaven hope human isle Italy knew lady land leaves less light lips living look lost memory mind moon morning mortal motion mountains move never night o'er ocean once pain pale pass past rocks round sate scorn seek seemed shadow shapes silent sleep smiles soft soon soul sound spirit stars strange stream sweet tears thee thine things thou thought tower truth turned veil voice wake wandering waters waves weep wild wind wings woods youth
Page 72 - Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure. Others I see whom these surround — Smiling they live, and call life pleasure ; — To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.
Page 37 - While yet a boy I sought for ghosts, and sped Through many a listening chamber, cave, and ruin, And starlight wood, with fearful steps pursuing Hopes of high talk with the departed dead. I called on poisonous names with which our youth is fed ; I was not heard : I saw them not. When musing deeply on the lot Of life, at that sweet time when winds are wooing All vital things that wake to bring News of birds and blossoming, Sudden thy shadow fell on me — I shrieked, and clasped my hands in...
Page 71 - O, lift me from the grass! I die, I faint, I fail! Let thy love in kisses rain On my lips and eyelids pale. My cheek is cold and white, alas ! My heart beats loud and fast: Oh! press it close to thine again, Where it will break at last ! Very few, perhaps, are familiar with these lines — yet no less a poet than Shelley is their author.
Page 50 - Our breath shall intermix, our bosoms bound, And our veins beat together; and our lips, With o'ther eloquence than words, eclipse The soul that burns between them...
Page 95 - Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory — Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken. Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, Are heaped for the beloved's bed; And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on.
Page 75 - I am the eye with which the Universe Beholds itself and knows itself divine; All harmony of instrument or verse, All prophecy, all medicine are mine, All light of art or nature; — to my song, Victory and praise in their own right belong.
Page 130 - But thou art fled Like some frail exhalation, which the dawn Robes in its golden beams, — ah ! thou hast fled ! The brave, the gentle, and the beautiful, The child of grace and genius. Heartless things Are done and said i...
Page 29 - You are now In London, that great sea, whose ebb and flow At once is deaf and loud, and on the shore Vomits its wrecks, and still howls on for more.
Page 65 - I sighed for thee. Thy brother Death came, and cried, Wouldst thou me? Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed, Murmured like a noontide bee, Shall I nestle near thy side? Wouldst thou me? — And I replied, No, not thee!