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I wonder if ever a song was sung but the singer's heart sang
sweeter!
I wonder if ever read more
I wonder if ever a song was sung but the singer's heart sang
sweeter!
I wonder if ever a rhyme was rung but the thought surpassed the
meter!
I wonder if ever a sculptor wrought till the cold stone echoed
his ardent thought!
Or, if ever a painter with light and shade the dream of his
inmost heart portrayed!
Where there is no vision, the people perish: but he that keepeth
the law, happy is he.
Where there is no vision, the people perish: but he that keepeth
the law, happy is he.
My thoughts by night are often filled
With visions false as fair:
For in the past alone, read more
My thoughts by night are often filled
With visions false as fair:
For in the past alone, I build
My castles in the air.
And like a passing thought, she fled
In light away.
And like a passing thought, she fled
In light away.
Our revels are now ended. These our actors
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are read more
Our revels are now ended. These our actors
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air;
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capped tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all of which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Is rounded with a sleep.
Hence, dear delusion, sweet enchantment hence!
- Horace Smith and James Smith,
Hence, dear delusion, sweet enchantment hence!
- Horace Smith and James Smith,
An angel stood and met my gaze,
Through the low doorway of my tent;
The tent is read more
An angel stood and met my gaze,
Through the low doorway of my tent;
The tent is struck, the vision stays;
I only know she came and went.
Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimaeras dire.
Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimaeras dire.
So little distant dangers seem:
So we mistake the future's face,
Ey'd thro' Hope's deluding glass;
read more
So little distant dangers seem:
So we mistake the future's face,
Ey'd thro' Hope's deluding glass;
As yon summits soft and fair,
Clad in colours of the air,
Which to those who journey near,
Barren, brown, and rough appear.