The golden gates of Sleep unbar Where Strength and Beauty, met together,
20 lines
DEATH: For my dagger is bathed in the blood of the brave,
46 lines
Rough wind, that moanest loud Grief too sad for song;
7 lines
Silver key of the fountain of tears, Where the spirit drinks till the brain is wild;
4 lines
A hater he came and sat by a ditch, And he took an old cracked lute;
3 lines
O World! O Life! O Time! On whose last steps I climb,
10 lines, 4 comments
God prosper, speed,and save, God raise from England’s grave
52 lines
In the cave which wild weeds cover Wait for thine aethereal lover;
11 lines
The wind has swept from the wide atmosphere Each vapour that obscured the sunset's ray;
33 lines, 1 comment
She was an aged woman; and the years Which she had numbered on her toilsome way
92 lines
'Tis the terror of tempest. The rags of the sail Are flickering in ribbons within the fierce gale:
168 lines
A widow bird sate mourning for her Love
Upon a wintry bough;
9 lines, 1 comment
I weep for Adonais -he is dead! O, weep for Adonais! though our tears
605 lines, 3 comments
Alas! this is not what I thought life was. I knew that there were crimes and evil men,
8 lines
Earth, Ocean, Air, belovèd brotherhood! If our great Mother has imbued my soul
748 lines
A portal as of shadowy adamant Stands yawning on the highway of the life
17 lines
Chameleons feed on light and air: Poets' food is love and fame:
28 lines
Arise, arise, arise! There is blood on the earth that denies ye bread;
38 lines, 1 comment
And like a dying lady, lean and pale,
Who totters forth, wrapp'd in a gauzy veil,
13 lines, 3 comments
And that I walk thus proudly crowned withal Is that 'tis my distinction; if I fall,
3 lines
No, Music, thou art not the 'food of Love.' Unless Love feeds upon its own sweet self,
4 lines
Arethusa arose From her couch of snows
98 lines
Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
6 lines
The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying,
24 lines, 1 comment
Thy beauty hangs around thee like Splendour around the moon--
3 lines
How stern are the woes of the desolate mourner As he bends in still grief o'er the hallowed bier,
18 lines, 1 comment
Dares the lama, most fleet of the sons of the wind, The lion to rouse from his skull-covered lair?
42 lines
'Buona notte, buona notte!'--Come mai La notte sara buona senza te?
16 lines
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
1105 lines
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