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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Sometimes gentle, sometimes capricious, sometimes awful, never
the same for two months together; almost human in its passions,
read more
Sometimes gentle, sometimes capricious, sometimes awful, never
the same for two months together; almost human in its passions,
almost spiritual in its tenderness, almost Divine in its
infinity.
Never till then so many thunderbolts from cloudless skies. (Bolt
from the blue.)
[Lat., Non alias caelo ceciderunt read more
Never till then so many thunderbolts from cloudless skies. (Bolt
from the blue.)
[Lat., Non alias caelo ceciderunt plura sereno.]
Green calm below, blue quietness above.
Green calm below, blue quietness above.
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.
The soft blue sky did never melt
Into his heart; he never felt
The witching of the read more
The soft blue sky did never melt
Into his heart; he never felt
The witching of the soft blue sky!
The sky
is that beautiful old parchment
in which the sun
and the moon
read more
The sky
is that beautiful old parchment
in which the sun
and the moon
keep their diary.
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!
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.
