Oh! there are spirits of the air,
And genii of the evening breeze,
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If solitude hath ever led thy steps
To the wild ocean's echoing shore,
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'Fairy!' the Spirit said,
And on the Queen of Spells
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'Thus do the generations of the earth
Go to the grave and issue from the womb,
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'How beautiful this night! the balmiest sigh,
Which vernal zephyrs breathe in evening's ear,
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The world's great age begins anew,
The golden years return,
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And like a dying lady, lean and pale,
Who totters forth, wrapp'd in a gauzy veil,
13 lines, 3 comments
All touch, all eye, all ear,
The Spirit felt the Fairy's burning speech.
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I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
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Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
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A widow bird sate mourning for her Love
Upon a wintry bough;
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MY faint spirit was sitting in the light
Of thy looks, my love;
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A FRAGMENT
PART I
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Thy dewy looks sink in my breast;
Thy gentle words stir poison there;
8 lines, 1 comment
Dear home, thou scene of earliest hopes and joys,
The least of which wronged Memory ever makes
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A shovel of his ashes took
From the hearth's obscurest nook,
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SPIRIT
'I was an infant when my mother went
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'O happy Earth, reality of Heaven!
To which those restless souls that ceaselessly
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Swift as a spirit hastening to his task Of glory & of good, the Sun sprang forth
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'Ah! quit me not yet, for the wind whistles shrill, Its blast wanders mournfully over the hill,
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'Here lieth One whose name was writ on water. But, ere the breath that could erase it blew,
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'Tis midnight now--athwart the murky air, Dank lurid meteors shoot a livid gleam;
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'Tis the terror of tempest. The rags of the sail Are flickering in ribbons within the fierce gale:
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'Twas dead of the night when I sate in my dwelling, One glimmering lamp was expiring and low,--
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'What art thou, Presumptuous, who profanest The wreath to mighty poets only due,
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(With what truth may I say-- Roma! Roma! Roma!
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And many there were hurt by that strong boy, His name, they said, was Pleasure,
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VI. No trump tells thy virtues—the grave where they rest
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A pale Dream came to a Lady fair, And said, A boon, a boon, I pray!
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A FRAGMENT PART I
443 lines
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