Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50)

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Delphi Poetry Anthology: The World's Greatest Poems (Delphi Poets Series Book 50) Page 177

by Homer


  Sweeps through the dull dense world, compelling there

  All new successions to the forms they wear;

  Torturing th’ unwilling dross that checks its flight

  To its own likeness, as each mass may bear; 385

  And bursting in its beauty and its might

  From trees and beasts and men into the Heaven’s light.

  The splendours of the firmament of time

  May be eclipsed, but are extinguished not;

  Like stars to their appointed height they climb 390

  And death is a low mist which cannot blot

  The brightness it may veil. When lofty thought

  Lifts a young heart above its mortal lair,

  And love and life contend in it, for what

  Shall be its earthly doom, the dead live there 395

  And move like winds of light on dark and stormy air.

  The inheritors of unfulfilled renown

  Rose from their thrones, built beyond mortal thought,

  Far in the Unapparent. Chatterton

  Rose pale, — his solemn agony had not 400

  Yet faded from him; Sidney, as he fought

  And as he fell and as he lived and loved

  Sublimely mild, a Spirit without spot,

  Arose; and Lucan, by his death approved:

  Oblivion as they rose shrank like a thing reproved. 405

  And many more, whose names on Earth are dark,

  But whose transmitted effluence cannot die

  So long as fire outlives the parent spark,

  Rose, robed in dazzling immortality.

  ‘Thou art become as one of us,’ they cry, 410

  ‘It was for thee yon kingless sphere has long

  Swung blind in unascended majesty,

  Silent alone amid an Heaven of Song.

  Assume thy wingèd throne, thou Vesper of our throng!’

  Who mourns for Adonais? Oh, come forth, 415

  Fond wretch! and know thyself and him aright.

  Clasp with thy panting soul the pendulous Earth;

  As from a centre, dart thy spirit’s light

  Beyond all worlds, until its spacious might

  Satiate the void circumference: then shrink 420

  Even to a point within our day and night;

  And keep thy heart light lest it make thee sink

  When hope has kindled hope, and lured thee to the brink.

  Or go to Rome, which is the sepulchre

  Oh, not of him, but of our joy: ’tis nought 425

  That ages, empires, and religions there

  Lie buried in the ravage they have wrought;

  For such as he can lend, — they borrow not

  Glory from those who made the world their prey;

  And he is gathered to the kings of thought 430

  Who waged contention with their time’s decay,

  And of the past are all that cannot pass away.

  Go thou to Rome, — at once the Paradise,

  The grave, the city, and the wilderness;

  And where its wrecks like shattered mountains rise, 435

  And flowering weeds, and fragrant copses dress

  The bones of Desolation’s nakedness,

  Pass, till the Spirit of the spot shall lead

  Thy footsteps to a slope of green access

  Where, like an infant’s smile, over the dead 440

  A light of laughing flowers along the grass is spread.

  And gray walls moulder round, on which dull Time

  Feeds, like slow fire upon a hoary brand;

  And one keen pyramid with wedge sublime,

  Pavilioning the dust of him who planned 445

  This refuge for his memory, doth stand

  Like flame transformed to marble; and beneath,

  A field is spread, on which a newer band

  Have pitched in Heaven’s smile their camp of death,

  Welcoming him we lose with scarce extinguished breath. 450

  Here pause: these graves are all too young as yet

  To have outgrown the sorrow which consigned

  Its charge to each; and if the seal is set,

  Here, on one fountain of a mourning mind,

  Break it not thou! too surely shalt thou find 455

  Thine own well full, if thou returnest home,

  Of tears and gall. From the world’s bitter wind

  Seek shelter in the shadow of the tomb.

  What Adonais is, why fear we to become?

  The One remains, the many change and pass; 460

  Heaven’s light forever shines, Earth’s shadows fly;

  Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass,

  Stains the white radiance of Eternity,

  Until Death tramples it to fragments. — Die,

  If thou wouldst be with that which thou dost seek! 465

  Follow where all is fled! — Rome’s azure sky,

  Flowers, ruins, statues, music, words are weak

  The glory they transfuse with fitting truth to speak.

  Why linger, why turn back, why shrink, my Heart?

  Thy hopes are gone before: from all things here 470

  They have departed: thou shouldst now depart!

  A light is passed from the revolving year,

  And man, and woman; and what still is dear

  Attracts to crush, repels to make thee wither.

  The soft sky smiles, — the low wind whispers near; 475

  ’Tis Adonais calls! oh, hasten thither,

  No more let Life divide what Death can join together.

  That Light whose smile kindles the Universe,

  That Beauty in which all things work and move,

  That Benediction which the eclipsing Curse 480

  Of birth can quench not, that sustaining Love

  Which through the web of being blindly wove

  By man and beast and earth and air and sea,

  Burns bright or dim, as each are mirrors of

  The fire for which all thirst; now beams on me, 485

  Consuming the last clouds of cold mortality.

  The breath whose might I have invoked in song

  Descends on me; my spirit’s bark is driven,

  Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng

  Whose sails were never to the tempest given; 490

  The massy earth and spherèd skies are riven!

  I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar;

  Whilst, burning through the inmost veil of Heaven,

  The soul of Adonais, like a star,

  Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are. 495

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  James Henry Leigh Hunt

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  Jenny Kiss’d Me

  James Henry Leigh Hunt (1784–1859)

  JENNY kiss’d me when we met,

  Jumping from the chair she sat in;

  Time, you thief, who love to get

  Sweets into your list, put that in!

  Say I’m weary, say I’m sad, 5

  Say that health and wealth have miss’d me,

  Say I’m growing old, but add,

  Jenny kiss’d me.

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  Abou Ben Adhem

  James Henry Leigh Hunt (1784–1859)

  ABOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe increase!)

  Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,

  And saw — within the moonlight in his room,

  Making it rich and like a lily in bloom —

  An angel, writing in a book of gold. 5

  Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,

  And to the presence in the room he said,

  ‘What writest thou?’ — The vision raised its head,

  And, with a look made of all sweet accord,

  Answered, ‘The nam
es of those who love the Lord.’ 10

  ‘And is mine one?’ said Abou. ‘Nay, not so,’

  Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,

  But cheerly still, and said, ‘I pray thee, then,

  Write me as one that loves his fellow men.’

  The angel wrote and vanished. The next night 15

  It came again with a great wakening light,

  And showed the names whom love of God had blessed,

  And lo! Ben Adhem’s name led all the rest.

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  John Keats

  List of Poems in Alphabetical Order

  List of Poets in Alphabetical Order

  Endymion Book I.

  John Keats (1795–1821)

  A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:

  Its loveliness increases; it will never

  Pass into nothingness; but still will keep

  A bower quiet for us, and a sleep

  Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

  Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing

  A flowery band to bind us to the earth,

  Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth

  Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,

  Of all the unhealthy and o’er-darkened ways 10

  Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,

  Some shape of beauty moves away the pall

  From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,

  Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon

  For simple sheep; and such are daffodils

  With the green world they live in; and clear rills

  That for themselves a cooling covert make

  ‘Gainst the hot season; the mid forest brake,

  Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:

  And such too is the grandeur of the dooms 20

  We have imagined for the mighty dead;

  All lovely tales that we have heard or read:

  An endless fountain of immortal drink,

  Pouring unto us from the heaven’s brink.

  Nor do we merely feel these essences

  For one short hour; no, even as the trees

  That whisper round a temple become soon

  Dear as the temple’s self, so does the moon,

  The passion poesy, glories infinite,

  Haunt us till they become a cheering light 30

  Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast,

  That, whether there be shine, or gloom o’ercast,

  They alway must be with us, or we die.

  Therefore, ’tis with full happiness that I

  Will trace the story of Endymion.

  The very music of the name has gone

  Into my being, and each pleasant scene

  Is growing fresh before me as the green

  Of our own vallies: so I will begin

  Now while I cannot hear the city’s din; 40

  Now while the early budders are just new,

  And run in mazes of the youngest hue

  About old forests; while the willow trails

  Its delicate amber; and the dairy pails

  Bring home increase of milk. And, as the year

  Grows lush in juicy stalks, I’ll smoothly steer

  My little boat, for many quiet hours,

  With streams that deepen freshly into bowers.

  Many and many a verse I hope to write,

  Before the daisies, vermeil rimm’d and white, 50

  Hide in deep herbage; and ere yet the bees

  Hum about globes of clover and sweet peas,

  I must be near the middle of my story.

  O may no wintry season, bare and hoary,

  See it half finished: but let Autumn bold,

  With universal tinge of sober gold,

  Be all about me when I make an end.

  And now at once, adventuresome, I send

  My herald thought into a wilderness:

  There let its trumpet blow, and quickly dress 60

  My uncertain path with green, that I may speed

  Easily onward, thorough flowers and weed.

  Upon the sides of Latmos was outspread

  A mighty forest; for the moist earth fed

  So plenteously all weed-hidden roots

  Into o’er-hanging boughs, and precious fruits.

  And it had gloomy shades, sequestered deep,

  Where no man went; and if from shepherd’s keep

  A lamb strayed far a-down those inmost glens,

  Never again saw he the happy pens 70

  Whither his brethren, bleating with content,

  Over the hills at every nightfall went.

  Among the shepherds, ’twas believed ever,

  That not one fleecy lamb which thus did sever

  From the white flock, but pass’d unworried

  By angry wolf, or pard with prying head,

  Until it came to some unfooted plains

  Where fed the herds of Pan: ay great his gains

  Who thus one lamb did lose. Paths there were many,

  Winding through palmy fern, and rushes fenny, 80

  And ivy banks; all leading pleasantly

  To a wide lawn, whence one could only see

  Stems thronging all around between the swell

  Of turf and slanting branches: who could tell

  The freshness of the space of heaven above,

  Edg’d round with dark tree tops? through which a dove

  Would often beat its wings, and often too

  A little cloud would move across the blue.

  Full in the middle of this pleasantness

  There stood a marble altar, with a tress 90

  Of flowers budded newly; and the dew

  Had taken fairy phantasies to strew

  Daisies upon the sacred sward last eve,

  And so the dawned light in pomp receive.

  For ’twas the morn: Apollo’s upward fire

  Made every eastern cloud a silvery pyre

  Of brightness so unsullied, that therein

  A melancholy spirit well might win

  Oblivion, and melt out his essence fine

  Into the winds: rain-scented eglantine 100

  Gave temperate sweets to that well-wooing sun;

  The lark was lost in him; cold springs had run

  To warm their chilliest bubbles in the grass;

  Man’s voice was on the mountains; and the mass

  Of nature’s lives and wonders puls’d tenfold,

  To feel this sun-rise and its glories old.

  Now while the silent workings of the dawn

  Were busiest, into that self-same lawn

  All suddenly, with joyful cries, there sped

  A troop of little children garlanded; 110

  Who gathering round the altar, seemed to pry

  Earnestly round as wishing to espy

  Some folk of holiday: nor had they waited

  For many moments, ere their ears were sated

  With a faint breath of music, which ev’n then

  Fill’d out its voice, and died away again.

  Within a little space again it gave

  Its airy swellings, with a gentle wave,

  To light-hung leaves, in smoothest echoes breaking

  Through copse-clad vallies,–ere their death, o’ertaking

  The surgy murmurs of the lonely sea. 121

  And now, as deep into the wood as we

  Might mark a lynx’s eye, there glimmered light

  Fair faces and a rush of garments white,

  Plainer and plainer shewing, till at last

  Into the widest alley they all past,

  Making directly for the woodland altar.

  O kindly muse! let not my weak tongue faulter

  In telling of this goodly company,

  Of their old piety, and of their glee: 130

  But let a portion of ethereal dew

  Fall
on my head, and presently unmew

  My soul; that I may dare, in wayfaring,

  To stammer where old Chaucer used to sing.

  Leading the way, young damsels danced along,

  Bearing the burden of a shepherd song;

  Each having a white wicker over brimm’d

  With April’s tender younglings: next, well trimm’d,

  A crowd of shepherds with as sunburnt looks

  As may be read of in Arcadian books; 140

  Such as sat listening round Apollo’s pipe,

  When the great deity, for earth too ripe,

  Let his divinity o’er-flowing die

  In music, through the vales of Thessaly:

  Some idly trailed their sheep-hooks on the ground,

  And some kept up a shrilly mellow sound

  With ebon-tipped flutes: close after these,

  Now coming from beneath the forest trees,

  A venerable priest full soberly,

  Begirt with ministring looks: alway his eye 150

  Stedfast upon the matted turf he kept,

  And after him his sacred vestments swept.

  From his right hand there swung a vase, milk-white,

  Of mingled wine, out-sparkling generous light;

  And in his left he held a basket full

  Of all sweet herbs that searching eye could cull:

  Wild thyme, and valley-lilies whiter still

  Than Leda’s love, and cresses from the rill.

  His aged head, crowned with beechen wreath,

  Seem’d like a poll of ivy in the teeth 160

  Of winter hoar. Then came another crowd

  Of shepherds, lifting in due time aloud

  Their share of the ditty. After them appear’d,

  Up-followed by a multitude that rear’d

  Their voices to the clouds, a fair wrought car,

  Easily rolling so as scarce to mar

  The freedom of three steeds of dapple brown:

  Who stood therein did seem of great renown

  Among the throng. His youth was fully blown,

  Shewing like Ganymede to manhood grown; 170

  And, for those simple times, his garments were

  A chieftain king’s: beneath his breast, half bare,

 

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