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Beatrice beautiful Bell beneath blood breath bright called Cenci child cloud cold dare dark dead death deep delight dream earth edition Enter eyes faint fair father fear feel fell fire flowers follow gentle give grave green grew hair hand head hear heard heart heaven hope hour human innocent Italy knew Lady leaves less light living look Lord Lucretia Mahmud mind moon morning mother mountains Nature never night o'er ocean once pain pale pass Peter Pigs poem Prometheus Pyrganax round ruin seems SEMICHORUS shadow shapes Shelley sleep smile soon soul sound speak spirit stand stars strange stream sweet Swellfoot tears thee thine things thou thou art thought Till truth turned voice wandering weak weep wind wings young
Page 383 - He is made one with Nature : there is heard His voice in all her music, from the moan Of thunder, to the song of night's sweet bird ; He is a presence to be felt and known In darkness and in light, from herb and stone, Spreading itself where'er that Power may move Which has withdrawn his being to its own ; Which wields the world with never wearied love, Sustains it from beneath, and kindles it above.
Page 383 - tis Death is dead, not he; Mourn not for Adonais, — Thou young Dawn Turn all thy dew to splendour, for from thee The spirit thou lamentest is not gone; Ye caverns and ye forests, cease to moan!
Page 111 - Through the clouds ere they divide them; And this atmosphere divinest Shrouds thee wheresoe'er thou shinest. Fair are others; none beholds thee, <• But thy voice sounds low and tender Like the fairest, for it folds thee From the sight, that liquid splendour, And all feel, yet see thee never, As I feel now, lost for ever!
Page 386 - The breath whose might I have invoked in song Descends on me ; my spirit's bark is driven Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng Whose sails were never to the tempest given. The massy earth and sphered skies are riven ! I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar ! Whilst, burning through the inmost veil of heaven, The soul of Adonais, like a star, Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.
Page 383 - His part, while the one Spirit's plastic stress Sweeps through the dull dense world, compelling there All new successions to the forms they wear; Torturing the unwilling dross that checks its flight To its own likeness, as each mass may bear; And bursting in its beauty and its might From trees and beasts and men into the Heaven's light.
Page 369 - Our breath shall intermix, our bosoms bound, And our veins beat together ; and our lips, With other eloquence than words, eclipse The soul that burns between them, and the wells Which boil under our being's inmost cells, The fountains of our deepest life shall be Confused in passion's golden purity, As mountain-springs under the morning Sun. We shall become the same, we shall be one Spirit within two frames, oh I wherefore two?
Page 306 - By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honour by the locks...