In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?
-William Blake,
Songs of Experience,
The Tyger, 1794
|
Chariots of Fire
Bring me my Bow of burning gold: Bring me my Arrows of desire: Bring me my Spear: O clouds unfold! Bring me my Chariot of fire! -William Blake, And Did Those Feet |
|
Sunset Tree
Come to the sunset tree! The day is past and gone. -Felicia Dorothea Hemans, Tyrolese Evening Song |
|
Flying Cloud
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light -Alfred, Lord Tennyson, In Momoriam A. H. H., 1850 |
|
Silent Laughter
For after the rain when with never a stain The pavilion of Heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams Build up the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again. -Percy Bysshe Shelley, The Cloud, 1820 |
|
Happy Melodies
Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; And, happy melodist, unwearied, For ever piping songs for ever new; -John Keats, Ode on a Grecian Urn |
|
Wind of Night
Thine eyes glow'd in the glare Of the moon's dying light; As a fen-fire's beam On a sluggish stream Gleams dimly--so the moon shone there, And it yellow'd the strings of thy tangled hair, That shook in the wind of night. -Percy Bysshe Shelley, Lines: The cold earth slept below, 1823 |
|
Flush of Rage
On the earl's cheek the flush of rage O'ercame the ashen hue of age -Sir Walter Scott,Marmion, 1808 |
|
Pleasure
But pleasures are like poppies spread, You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed; Or like the snow falls in the river, A moment white--then melts forever; Or like the borealis race, That flit ere you can point their place; Or like the rainbow's lovely form Evanishing amid the storm. -Robert Burns, Tam O'Shanter: A Tale, 1791 |