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1 I SING the Body electric; The armies of those I love engirth me, and I engirth them; They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them, And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the Soul.
Wild, pale, and wonder-stricken, even as one Who staggers forth into the air and sun From the dark chamber of a mortal fever, Bewildered, and incapable, and ever Fancying strange comments in her dizzy brain Of usual shapes, till the...
THE TURN Brave infant of Saguntum, clear Thy coming forth in that great year, When the prodigious Hannibal did crown His rage with razing your immortal town. Thou looking then about, Ere thou wert half got out, Wise child, didst...
In these deep solitudes and awful cells, Where heavenly-pensive Contemplation dwells, And ever-musing Melancholy reigns, What means this tumult in a vestal's veins? Why rove my thoughts beyond this last retreat? Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat?
The meadows with fresh streams, the bees with thyme, The goats with the green leaves of budding Spring, Are saturated not--nor Love with tears.--VIRGIL'S "Gallus".
Dear child! how radiant on thy mother's knee, With merry-making eyes and jocund smiles, Thou gazest at the painted tiles, Whose figures grace, With many a grotesque form and face. The ancient chimney of thy nursery!
SCENE I.--_A woody and mountainous district near Mount Ararat.--Time, midnight_. _Enter_ ANAH _and_ AHOLIBAMAH. OUR father sleeps: it is the hour when they Who love us are accustomed to descend Through the deep clouds o'er rocky Ararat:-- How my heart beats!
I 'But where do you go?' said the lady, while both sat under the yew, And her eyes were alive in their depth, as the kraken beneath the sea-blue.
Oh that those lips had language! Life has pass'd With me but roughly since I heard thee last.
Wandering by the river's edge, I love to rustle through the sedge And through the woods of reed to tear Almost as high as bushes are.
This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic, Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.
Ambition, power, and avarice, now have hurled Death, fate, and ruin, on a bleeding world. on yon heath what countless victims lie, Hark!
"Tie stille, barn min! Imorgen kommer Fin, Fa'er din, Og gi'er dich Esbern Snares öine og hjerte at lege med!" Zealand Rhyme.
The Moorish King rides up and down. Through Granada's royal town: From Elvira's gates to those Of Bivarambla on he goes. Woe is me, Alhama! Letters to the Monarch tell How Alhama's city fell: In the fire the scroll he...
As Children bid the Guest "Good Night" And then reluctant turn -- My flowers raise their pretty lips -- Then put their nightgowns on. As...
The death knell is ringing The raven is singing The earth worm is creeping The mourners are weeping Ding dong, bell--
Ye gentle visitations of calm thought-- Moods like the memories of happier earth, Which come arrayed in thoughts of little worth, Like stars in clouds by the weak winds enwrought,-- But that the clouds depart and stars remain, While they remain, and ye, alas, depart!
There is a warm and gentle atmosphere About the form of one we love, and thus As in a tender mist our spirits are Wrapped in the ... of that which is to us The health of life's own life--
When soft winds and sunny skies With the green earth harmonize, And the young and dewy dawn, Bold as an unhunted fawn, Up the windless heaven is gone,-- Laugh--for ambushed in the day,-- Clouds and whirlwinds watch their prey.
I dreamed that Milton's spirit rose, and took From life's green tree his Uranian lute; And from his touch sweet thunder flowed, and shook All human things built in contempt of man,-- And sanguine thrones and impious altars quaked, Prisons and citadels...
A gentle story of two lovers young, Who met in innocence and died in sorrow, And of one selfish heart, whose rancour clung Like curses on them; are ye slow to borrow The lore of truth from such a tale?
Is it that in some brighter sphere We part from friends we meet with here? Or do we see the Future pass Over the Present's dusky glass?
O thou immortal deity Whose throne is in the depth of human thought, I do adjure thy power and thee By all that man may be, by all that he is not, By all that he has been and yet must be!
It can't be "Summer"! That -- got through! It's early -- yet -- for "Spring"! There's that long town of White -- to cross --...