Moonlight Vapor (Zion)

the damp death     Quenched its caress upon his icy lips,         And, as a dying meteor stains a wreath     Of moonlight vapour which the cold night clips, It flushed through his pale limbs, and passed to its eclipse. -Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822), Adonais

Sapphire Heaven (Zion)

Beyond a mortal man impassioned far     At these voluptuous accents, he arose,     Ethereal, flushed, and like a throbbing star     Seen 'mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose     Into her dream he melted, as the rose     Blendeth its odor with the violet--     Solution sweet: meantime the frost-wind blows     Like Love's alarum pattering the sharp sleet Against the windowpanes; St. Agnes' moon hath set. -John Keats (1795-1821), The Eve of St. Agnes

Phantom Ship (Zion)

A phantom ship, with each mast and spar Across the moon like a prison bar, And a huge black hulk, that was magnified By its own reflection in the tide. -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882), Paul Revere's Ride

Soft Light (Honolulu)

In its stream immersed,     The lamps of heaven flash with a softer light;         All baser things pant with life's sacred thirst,     Diffuse themselves, and spend in love's delight The beauty and the joy of their renewèd might. -Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822), Adonais

Moon-lit Sparks (Honolulu)

A hurry of hoofs in a village street, A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet; -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882), Paul Revere's Ride

Gaze (Honolulu)

So, purposing each moment to retire,     She lingered still, Meantime, across the moors,     Had come young Porphyro, with heart on fire     For Madeline. Beside the portal doors,     Buttressed from moonlight, stands he, and implores     All saints to give him sight of Madeline,     But for one moment in the tedious hours,     That he might gaze and worship all unseen; Perchance speak, kneel, touch, kiss--in sooth such things have been. -John Keats (1795-1821), The Eve of St. Agnes

Lost Dreams (Honolulu)

I can see the shadowy lines of its trees,     And catch, in sudden gleams, The sheen of the far-surrounding seas, And islands that were the Hesperides     Of all my boyish dreams.         And the burden of that old song,         It murmurs and whispers still:     "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts." -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882), My Lost Youth