3. Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; Where but to think is to be full of sorrow And leaden-eyed despairs, Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, 4. Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, 25 30 Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, 35 And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown 5. I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves; And mid-May's eldest child, 45 The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. 6. Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain 7. Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam 8. Forlorn! the very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self! 50 55 60 65 70 Adieu ! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades 75 Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 't is buried deep Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music :- Do I wake or sleep? ODE ON A GRECIAN URN. I. THOU still unravish'd bride of quietness, A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme : In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? 2. Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave 3. Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed For ever piping songs for ever new; All breathing human passion far above, 4. Who are these coming to the sacrifice? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel, Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn? 5. O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, 25 30 35 40 45 ee Beauty is truth, truth beauty," that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know. ODE TO PSYCHE. O GODDESS! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung The winged Psyche with awaken'd eyes? I wander'd in a forest thoughtlessly, And, on the sudden, fainting with surprise, 'Mid hush'd, cool-rooted flowers, fragrant-eyed, Their arms embraced, and their pinions too; As if disjoined by soft-handed slumber, And ready still past kisses to outnumber At tender eye-dawn of aurorean love: But who wast thou, O happy, happy dove? His Psyche true! O latest born and loveliest vision far Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky; |