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Adonais ANTISTROPHE Apennine art thou azure beams beauty beneath billows blue bowers breath bright burning calm cave caverns chidden clouds cold Daemon dark dead death deep delight divine dome doth dream earth eternal EUGANEAN HILLS eyes faint fair fear fire flame fled fleeting river floating flowers folded palm gaze gentle gleam glow golden grave green grief heart heaven hope hopes and fears hues human isles kiss lady leaves light lips living lone Maenad mighty mingled moon morning motion mountains murmuring mute music never night nursling o'er ocean odour pale PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY poet rain Revolt of Islam rocks round Sensitive Plant shadow silent sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit splendour stars strange stream sweet swift tears thee thine things thou art thought tower tremble veil voice wandering waves weep Whilst wild wind wind-flowers wings woods
Seite 185 - Keen as are the arrows Of that silver sphere, Whose intense lamp narrows In the white dawn clear, Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.
Seite 93 - Nothing / beside / remains. // Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, / The lone and level sands / stretch far away. JOHN GIELGUD'S PAUSES: I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: // Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. // Near them, on the sand, / Half sunk, / a...
Seite 327 - That light whose smile kindles the Universe, That Beauty in which all things work and move, That Benediction which the eclipsing Curse Of birth can quench not, that sustaining Love Which through the web of being blindly wove By man and beast and earth and air and sea, Burns bright or dim, as each are mirrors of The fire for which all thirst, now beams on me, Consuming the last clouds of cold mortality.
Seite 180 - I BRING fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams ; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noon-day dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun.
Seite 157 - Make me thy lyre, even as the forest is: What if my leaves are falling like its own ! The tumult of thy mighty harmonies Will take from both a deep, autumnal tone, Sweet though in sadness.
Seite 156 - So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou For whose path the Atlantic's level powers Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear The sapless foliage of the ocean, know Thy voice, and suddenly grow grey with fear, And tremble and despoil themselves: oh, hear!
Seite 143 - 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.
Seite 155 - mid the steep sky's commotion, Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed, Shook from the tangled boughs of heaven and ocean, Angels of rain and lightning ! there are spread On the blue surface of thine airy surge, Like the bright hair uplifted from the head Of some fierce Maenad, even from the dim verge Of the horizon to the zenith's height, The locks of the approaching storm.
Seite 305 - Yet wherefore? Quench within their burning bed Thy fiery tears, and let thy loud heart keep Like his a mute and uncomplaining sleep; For he is gone where all things wise and fair Descend. Oh, dream not that the amorous Deep Will yet restore him to the vital air; Death feeds on his mute voice, and laughs at our despair.