Martyna Z'muir: Protected "Romantic Selections II" [edit=sysop:move=sysop]

2008-11-22T07:18:13Z

Protected "Romantic Selections II" [edit=sysop:move=sysop]

Martyna Z'muir: New page: '''Title: Romantic Selections II''' '''Author: John Keats''' - Bright Star, Would I Were Stedfast as Thou Art -
Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art
Not in lone splendo...

2008-11-22T07:18:06Z

New page: '''Title: Romantic Selections II''' '''Author: John Keats''' - Bright Star, Would I Were Stedfast as Thou Art - Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art Not in lone splendo...

New page

'''Title: Romantic Selections II'''

'''Author: John Keats'''

- Bright Star, Would I Were Stedfast as Thou Art - 
Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art 
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night 
And watching, with eternal lids apart, 
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite, 
The moving waters at their priestlike task 
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores, 
Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask 
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors-- 
No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable, 
Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast, 
To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, 
Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, 
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, 
And so live ever--or else swoon to death. 

- Ode to a Nightingale - 
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains 
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, 
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains 
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: 
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, 
But being too happy in thine happiness, - 
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, 
In some melodious plot 
Of beechen green and shadows numberless, 
Singest of summer in full-throated ease. 

O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been 
Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth, 
Tasting of Flora and the country green, 
Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth! 
O for a beaker full of the warm South, 
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, 
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, 
And purple-stained mouth; 
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, 
And with thee fade away into the forest dim: 

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget 
What thou among the leaves hast never known, 
The weariness, the fever, and the fret 
Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; 
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, 
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; 
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow 
And leaden-eyed despairs, 
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, 
Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow. 

Away! away! for I will fly to thee, 
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, 
But on the viewless wings of Poesy, 
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: 
Already with thee! tender is the night, 
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, 
Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays; 
But here there is no light, 
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown 
Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. 

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, 
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, 
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet 
Wherewith the seasonable month endows 
The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; 
White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; 
Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves; 
And mid-May's eldest child, 
The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, 
The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. 

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time 
I have been half in love with easeful Death, 
Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, 
To take into the air my quiet breath; 
Now more than ever seems it rich to die, 
To cease upon the midnight with no pain, 
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad 
In such an ecstasy! 
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain - 
To thy high requiem become a sod. 

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! 
No hungry generations tread thee down; 
The voice I hear this passing night was heard 
In ancient days by emperor and clown: 
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path 
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, 
She stood in tears amid the alien corn; 
The same that oft-times hath 
Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam 
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. 

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell 
To toll me back from thee to my sole self! 
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well 
As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf. 
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades 
Past the near meadows, over the still stream, 
Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep 
In the next valley-glades: 
Was it a vision, or a waking dream? 
Fled is that music: - Do I wake or sleep?

<HR>
Back to [[Valentines_'08|Valentines '08]]
[[Category:multi-shard books]]

← Older revision	Revision as of 07:18, 22 November 2008
(No difference)

Romantic Selections II - Revision history

Martyna Z'muir: Protected "Romantic Selections II" [edit=sysop:move=sysop]

Martyna Z'muir: New page: '''Title: Romantic Selections II''' '''Author: John Keats''' - Bright Star, Would I Were Stedfast as Thou Art - Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art Not in lone splendo...

Martyna Z'muir: New page: '''Title: Romantic Selections II''' '''Author: John Keats''' - Bright Star, Would I Were Stedfast as Thou Art -
Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art
Not in lone splendo...