Against whose portal she hath thrown, In childhood, many an idle stone- Some tomb from out whose sounding door She ne'er shall force an echo more, Thrilling to think, poor child of sin! It was the dead who groaned within.
THERE are some qualities-some incorporate things, That have a double life, which thus is made
A type of that twin entity which springs
From matter and light, evinced in solid and shade There is a two-fold Silence-sea and shore-
Body and soul. One dwells in lonely places, Newly with grass o'ergrown; some solemn graces, Some human memories and tearful lore,
Render him terrorless: his name's "No More." He is the corporate Silence: dread him not! No power hath he of evil in himself; But should some urgent fate (untimely lot!)
Bring thee to meet his shadow (nameless elf, That haunteth the lone regions where hath trod No foot of man,) commend thyself to God!
TAKE this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow- You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand- How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep-while I weep! O God! can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?
By a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only, Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT, On a black throne reigns upright, I have reached these lands but newly From an ultimate dim Thule—
From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime, Out of SPACE-out of TIME.
Bottomless vales and boundless floods,
And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods, With forms that no man can discover
For the dews that drip all over;
Mountains toppling evermore
Into seas without a shore;
Seas that restlessly aspire, Surging, unto skies of fire; Lakes that endlessly outspread Their lone waters-lone and dead,-
Their still waters-still and chilly With the snows of the lolling lily.
By the lakes that thus outspread Their lone waters, lone and dead,—
Their sad waters, sad and chilly With the snows of the lolling lily,- By the mountains-near the river Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever,- By the grey woods,--by the swamp Where the toad and the newt encamp,- By the dismal tarns and pools
Where dwell the Ghouls,- By each spot the most unholy- In each nook most melancholy,-- There the traveller meets aghast Sheeted Memories of the Past- Shrouded forms that start and sigh As they pass the wanderer by- White-robed forms of friends long giver, In agony, to the Earth-and Heaven,
For the heart whose woes are legion 'Tis a peaceful, soothing region- For the spirit that walks in shadow 'Tis-oh 'tis an Eldorado! But the traveller, travelling through it, May not dare not openly view it; Never its mysteries are exposed To the weak human eye unclosed; So wills its King, who hath forbid The uplifting of the fringed lid; And thus the sad Soul that here passes Beholds it but through darkened glasses.
By a route obscure and lonely, Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT, On a black throne reigns upright, I have wandered home but newly From this ultimate dim Thule
FAIR isle, that from the fairest of all flowers, Thy gentlest of all gentle names dost take! How many memories of what radiant hours
At sight of thee and thine at once awake! How many scenes of what departed bliss! How many thoughts of what entombéd hopes! How many visions of a maiden that is
No more no more upon thy verdant slopes' No more! alas, that magical sad sound
Transforming all! Thy charms shall please no more
Thy memory no more! Accursed ground
Henceforth I hold thy flower-enamelled shore,
Ɔ hyacinthine isle! O purple Zante!
"Isola d'oro! Fior di Levante!"
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