Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!
Ye unborn ages, crown not on my soul.

Visions of glory, spare my aching sight!
Ye unborn ages, crown not on my soul.

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.

Where there is no vision, the people perish: but he that keepeth
the law, happy is he.

Where there is no vision, the people perish: but he that keepeth
the law, happy is he.

Hence the fool's paradise, the statesman's scheme,
The air-built castle, and the golden dream,
The maid's romantic read more

Hence the fool's paradise, the statesman's scheme,
The air-built castle, and the golden dream,
The maid's romantic wish, the chemist's flame,
And poet's vision of eternal fame.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.