Sometimes gentle, sometimes capricious, sometimes awful, never
the same for two months together; almost human in its passions,
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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.

From hyperborean skies
Embodied dark, what clouds of vandals rise.

From hyperborean skies
Embodied dark, what clouds of vandals rise.

Heaven's ebon vault,
Studded with stars unutterably bright,
Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls,
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Heaven's ebon vault,
Studded with stars unutterably bright,
Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls,
Seems like a canopy which love has spread
To curtain her sleeping world.

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!

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?]

I have of late--but wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth,
forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it read more

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.

The mountain at a given distance
In amber lies;
Approached, the amber flits a little,--
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The mountain at a given distance
In amber lies;
Approached, the amber flits a little,--
And that's the skies!

The moon has set
In a bank of jet
That fringes the Western sky,
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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
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The sky
is that beautiful old parchment
in which the sun
and the moon
keep their diary.