I have of late--but wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth,
forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so heavily
with my disposition that this goodly frame the earth seems to me
a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look
you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof
fretted with golden fire--why, it appeareth nothing to me but a
foul and pestilent congregation of vapors.
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He answered and said unto them, When it is evening, ye say, It
will be fair weather: for the read more
He answered and said unto them, When it is evening, ye say, It
will be fair weather: for the sky is red.
And in the morning, It will be foul weather to day: for the sky
is red and lowring. O ye hypocrites, ye can discern the face of
the sky; but can ye not discern the signs of the times?
Arrestment, sudden really as a bolt out of the blue has hit
strange victims.
Arrestment, sudden really as a bolt out of the blue has hit
strange victims.
The moon has set
In a bank of jet
That fringes the Western sky,
read more
The moon has set
In a bank of jet
That fringes the Western sky,
The pleiads seven
Have sunk from heaven
And the midnight hurries by;
My hopes are flown
And, alas! alone
On my weary couch I lie.
A certain recluse, I know not who, once said that no bonds attached him to this life, and the only read more
A certain recluse, I know not who, once said that no bonds attached him to this life, and the only thing he would regret leaving was the sky.
From hyperborean skies
Embodied dark, what clouds of vandals rise.
From hyperborean skies
Embodied dark, what clouds of vandals rise.
How bravely Autumn paints upon the sky
The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled!
How bravely Autumn paints upon the sky
The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled!
"Darkly, deeply, beautifully blue,"
As some one somewhere sings about the sky.
"Darkly, deeply, beautifully blue,"
As some one somewhere sings about the sky.
And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky,
Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die,
Lift not read more
And that inverted Bowl they call the Sky,
Whereunder crawling coop'd we live and die,
Lift not your hands to it for help--for it
As impotently moves as you or I.
