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But shapes that come not at an earthly call,
Will not depart when mortal voices bid.
But shapes that come not at an earthly call,
Will not depart when mortal voices bid.
My thoughts by night are often filled
With visions false as fair:
For in the past alone, read more
My thoughts by night are often filled
With visions false as fair:
For in the past alone, I build
My castles in the air.
I have also spoken by the prophets, and I have multiplied
visions, and used similitudes, by the ministry of read more
I have also spoken by the prophets, and I have multiplied
visions, and used similitudes, by the ministry of the prophets.
So little distant dangers seem:
So we mistake the future's face,
Ey'd thro' Hope's deluding glass;
read more
So little distant dangers seem:
So we mistake the future's face,
Ey'd thro' Hope's deluding glass;
As yon summits soft and fair,
Clad in colours of the air,
Which to those who journey near,
Barren, brown, and rough appear.
Concerning perfect blessed ness which consists in a vision of
God.
[Lat., Circa beatitudinem perfectam, quae in Dei read more
Concerning perfect blessed ness which consists in a vision of
God.
[Lat., Circa beatitudinem perfectam, quae in Dei visione
consistit.]
Our revels are now ended. These our actors
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are read more
Our revels are now ended. These our actors
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air;
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capped tow'rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all of which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Is rounded with a sleep.
The people's prayer, the glad diviner's theme!
The young men's vision, and the old men's dream.
The people's prayer, the glad diviner's theme!
The young men's vision, and the old men's dream.
I wonder if ever a song was sung but the singer's heart sang
sweeter!
I wonder if ever read more
I wonder if ever a song was sung but the singer's heart sang
sweeter!
I wonder if ever a rhyme was rung but the thought surpassed the
meter!
I wonder if ever a sculptor wrought till the cold stone echoed
his ardent thought!
Or, if ever a painter with light and shade the dream of his
inmost heart portrayed!
An angel stood and met my gaze,
Through the low doorway of my tent;
The tent is read more
An angel stood and met my gaze,
Through the low doorway of my tent;
The tent is struck, the vision stays;
I only know she came and went.