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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Of evening tinct,
The purple-streaming Amethyst is thine.
Of evening tinct,
The purple-streaming Amethyst is thine.
From hyperborean skies
Embodied dark, what clouds of vandals rise.
From hyperborean skies
Embodied dark, what clouds of vandals rise.
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.
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.
I go back to those who say: what if the heavens fall?
[Lat., Redeo ad illes qui aiunt: quid read more
I go back to those who say: what if the heavens fall?
[Lat., Redeo ad illes qui aiunt: quid si coelum ruat?]
"Darkly, deeply, beautifully blue,"
As some one somewhere sings about the sky.
"Darkly, deeply, beautifully blue,"
As some one somewhere sings about the sky.
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!
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.]
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.
