My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains 5 One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, ΙΟ O for a draught of vintage! that hath been O for a beaker full of the warm South, 15 That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim: 21 Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget, Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last grey hairs, Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; 26 Where but to think is to be full of sorrow And leaden-eyed despairs, Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow. Why had they come to wither there, Away from their childhood's land? 28 There was woman's fearless eye, Away! away! for I will fly to thee, 31 Lit by her deep love's truth; There was manhood's brow serenely high, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And the fiery heart of youth. 32 35 And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmèd darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows 40 Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; 16 Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal- - yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, Forever wilt thou love, and she be fair! 20 Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed Forever piping songs forever new; 25 Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, 25 And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; 29 And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft; And gathering swallows twitter in the skies. Bards of Passion and of Mirth, Ye have left your souls on earth! Ye have souls in heaven too, Double-lived in regions new! LINES ON THE MERMAID TAVERN Souls of Poets dead and gone, 40 5 10 ODE Bards of Passion and of Mirth, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried 'La Belle Dame sans Merci Hath thee in thrall!' 40 5 That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne; Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He star'd at the Pacific and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise — Silent, upon a peak in Darien. TO SLEEP 10 Our gloom-pleased eyes, embower'd from the light, Enshaded in forgetfulness divine; O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close, In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes, Or wait the amen, ere thy poppy throws Around my bed its lulling charities; Then save me, or the passèd day will shine Upon my pillow, breeding many woes; Save me from curious conscience, that still lords Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole; Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, And seal the hushèd casket of my soul. 5 ΙΟ ENDYMION ON THE SEA Before high pilèd books, in charact'ry, 5 Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain; When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creature of an hour! That I shall never look upon thee more, Never have relish in the faery power then on the shore Of unreflecting love! Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink. BRIGHT STAR! ΙΟ ENDYMION FROM BOOK I A thing of beauty is a joy forever: Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. 5 ΙΟ 15 Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing 20 * "This river does not see the naked sky, Till it begins to progress silverly Around the western border of the wood, Whence, from a certain spot, its winding flood Seems at the distance like a crescent moon: And in that nook, the very pride of June, Had I been us'd to pass my weary eyes; The rather for the sun unwilling leaves So dear a picture of his sovereign power, And I could witness his most kingly hour, When he doth tighten up the golden reins, And paces leisurely down amber plains Now when his chariot last His snorting four. Its beams against the zodiac-lion cast, There blossom'd suddenly a magic bed Of sacred ditamy, and poppies red: 30 540 545 55° 555 |