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beams BEATRICE beautiful beneath blood breath bright calm child clouds cold dark dead death deep delight divine dream earth eternal evil eyes fair father fear feel fell fire flowers follow gentle gold grave green grew hair hand happy hear heard heart heaven hope hour human Italy knew leaves light lips living look mighty mind moon morning mother mountains move nature never night o'er ocean once pain pale pass past peace Peter poem rest rocks round ruin seemed shadow shapes slaves sleep smile soon soul sound speak spirit stand stars strange stream sweet swift tears thee thine things thou thou art thought truth turned voice wandering waters waves Whilst wide wild wind wings
Page 260 - 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.
Page 259 - Over earth and ocean with gentle motion, This pilot is guiding me, Lured by the love of the genii that move In the depths of the purple sea ; Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills, Over the lakes and the plains, Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream, The spirit he loves remains ; And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile, Whilst he is dissolving in rains.
Page 299 - I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright; I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Has led me — who knows how?
Page 292 - 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...
Page 259 - Philosophy The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the Ocean, The winds of Heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle. Why not I with thine...
Page 289 - Now thou art dead, as if it were a part Of thee, my Adonais! I would give All that I am to be as thou now art! But I am chained to Time, and cannot thence depart!
Page 260 - What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain ? What fields, or waves, or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain ? What love of thine- own kind ? what ignorance of pain...
Page 291 - Here pause: these graves are all too young as yet To have outgrown the sorrow which consigned Its charge to each; and if the seal is set, Here, on one fountain of a mourning mind, Break it not thou!
Page 260 - All the earth and air with thy voice is loud, as when night is bare, from one lonely cloud the moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed. What thou art we know not: what is most like thee? From rainbow clouds there flow not drops so bright to see, as from thy presence showers a rain of melody.