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ON THE SEA.
T keeps eternal whisperings around Desolate shores, and with its mighty swell Gluts twice ten thousand caverns, till the spell Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound. Often 'tis in such gentle temper found,
That scarcely will the very smallest shell
Be moved for days from where it sometime fell, When last the winds of heaven were unbound. O ye! who have your eyeballs vexed and tired, Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea; O ye! whose ears are dinn'd with uproar rude, Or fed too much with cloying melody,
Sit ye near some old cavern's mouth, and brood Until ye start, as if the sea-nymphs quired!
ON LEIGH HUNT'S POEM, THE STORY OF
HO loves to peer up at the morning sun,
A bower for his spirit, and will steer
HEN I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain, Before high-piled books, in charact'ry,
Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain; When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!
That I shall never look upon thee more, Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love! - then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.
TANDING aloof in giant ignorance, Of thee I hear and of the Cyclades, As one who sits ashore and longs perchance To visit dolphin-coral in deep seas. So thou wast blind! but then the veil was rent, For Jove uncurtain'd Heaven to let thee live, And Neptune made for thee a spermy tent,
And Pan made sing for thee his forest-hive; Aye, on the shores of darkness there is light,
And precipices show untrodden green; There is a budding morrow in midnight;
There is a triple sight in blindness keen : Such seeing hadst thou, as it once befell To Dian, Queen of Earth, and Heaven, and Hell.
ANSWER TO A SONNET ENDING THUS :
"Dark eyes are dearer far
Than those that made the hyacinthine bell."
LUE! 'Tis the life of heaven, the domain Of Cynthia, the wide palace of the sun, The tent of Hesperus, and all his train, The bosomer of clouds, gold, gray, and dun. Blue! 'Tis the life of waters
And all its vassal streams: pools numberless
Married to green in all the sweetest flowers Forget-me-not, the blue-bell, and, that queen Of secrecy, the violet: what strange powers Hast thou, as a mere shadow! But how great, When in an Eye thou art alive with fate!