For me, for you, for all, to close the date,
Pass now the ev’ning sponge across the slate;
And to that spirit of forgiveness keep
Which is the parent and the child of sleep.
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I, WHOM Apollo sometime visited,
Do slumber wholly; nor shall know at allThe weariness of changes; nor perceiveImmeasurable sands of centuriesDrink of the blanching ink, or the loud soundOf generations beat the music down.
All around the house is the jet-black night;
It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light,And it moves with the moving flame.Now my little heart goes a beating like a drum,With the breath of the Bogies in my hair;And all around the candle and the crooked shadows come,And go marching along up the stair.The shadow of the balusters, the shadow of the…
WHETHER upon the garden seat
Under the May’s whole Heaven of blue;Or whether on the sofa you,No grown up person being by,Do some soft corner occupy;Take you this volume in your handsAnd enter into other lands,For lo! (as children feign) supposeYou, hunting in the garden rows,Or in the lumbered attic, orThe cellar – a nail-studded doorAnd dark, descending stairway foundThat…
I AM like one that for long days had sate,
On some lone foreland, watching sail by sail,The portbound ships for one ship that was late;And sail by sail, his heart burned up with joy,And cruelly was quenched, until at lastOne ship, the looked-for pennant at its mast,Bore gaily, and dropt safely past the buoy;And lo! the loved one was not there – was dead.Then…
FEAR not, dear friend, but freely live your days
A lesser life, that what is his of skyGladly would give for you, and what of praise.Step, without trouble, down the sunlit ways.We that have touched your raiment, are made wholeFrom all the selfish cankers of man’s soul,And we would see you happy, dear, or die.Therefore be brave, and therefore, dear, be free;Try all things…
YES, friend, I own these tales of Arabia
Age-old but yet untamed, for agesPass and the magic is undiminished.Thus, friend, the tales of the old Camaralzaman,Ayoub, the Slave of Love, or the Calendars,Blind-eyed and ill-starred royal scions,Charm us in age as they charmed in childhood.Fair ones, beyond all numerability,Beam from the palace, beam on humanity,Bright-eyed, in truth, yet soul-less hourisOffering pleasure and only…