Pity then will cut away Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay. I love all that thou lovest, Spirit of Delight! The fresh Earth in new leaves drest, And the starry night; Autumn evening, and the morn When the golden mists are born. I love snow, and all the forms Of the radiant frost; I love waves, and winds, and storms, Every thing almost Which is Nature's, and may be Untainted by man's misery. 24 30 36 I love tranquil solitude, And such society As is quiet, wise, and good; Between thee and me What difference? but thou dost possess I love Love-though he has wings, But above all other things, Spirit, I love thee Thou art love and life! Oh come, Make once more my heart thy home. 1821. 1824. Percy Bysshe Shelley. 42 48 DREAM-PEDLARY If there were dreams to sell, That shakes from Life's fresh crown If there were dreams to sell, Merry and sad to tell, And the crier rang the bell, What would you buy? A cottage lone and still, With bowers nigh, Shadowy, my woes to still, Until I die. Such pearl from Life's fresh crown Fain would I shake me down. Were dreams to have at will, This would best heal my ill, But there were dreams to sell Ill didst thou buy; Life is a dream, they tell, Waking, to die. 10 19 1851. Dreaming a dream to prize, Is wishing ghosts to rise; If there are ghosts to raise, Out of hell's murky haze, Raise my loved long-lost boy Out of death lead no ways; Know'st thou not ghosts to sue? No love thou hast. Else lie, as I will do, And breathe thy last. So out of Life's fresh crown Fall like a rose-leaf down. Thus are the ghosts to woo; Ever to last! Thomas Lovell Beddoes. 28 37 46 GOOD-BY GOOD-BY, proud world! I'm going home: Good-By Long through thy weary crowds I roam; Long I've been tossed like the driven foam; Good-by to Flattery's fawning face; I'm going to my own hearth-stone, And vulgar feet have never trod A spot that is sacred to thought and God. 6 14 22 O, when I am safe in my sylvan home, 1839. HUNTING SONG WAKEN, lords and ladies gay, All the jolly chase is here, With hawk and horse and hunting-spear! Hounds are in their couples yelling, Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling, Merrily, merrily, mingle they, Waken, lords and ladies gay, The mist has left the mountain gray, Waken, lords and ladies gay, 8 16 24 |