P.B.ShelleyThe sun is set; the swallows are asleep; The bats are flitting fast in the gray air; The slow soft toads out of damp corners creep, And evening's breath, wandering here and there Over the quivering surface of the stream, Wakes not one ripple from its silent dream. There are no dews on the dry grass tonight, Nor damp within the shadow of the trees; The wind is intermitting, dry and light; And in the inconstant motion of the breeze The dust and straws are driven up and down, And whirled about the pavement of the town. The Bells EA.Poe Hear the sledges with the bells — Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody fortells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars, that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight; Keeping time, time, time In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells. From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. G.G.Byron "Adieu! Adieu! my native shore Fades o'er the waters blue; The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar, And shrieks the wild sea-mew. Yon sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight; Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native Land — Good Night! "A few short hours, and he will rise To give the morrow birth; And I shall hail the main and skies,
But not my mother earth. Deserted is my own good hall, Its hearth is desolate; Wild weeds are gathering on the wall; My dog howls at the gate. "With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go Athwart the foaming brine; Nor care what land thou bear'st me to, So not again to mine. Welcome, welcome, ye dark blue waves! And when you fail my sight, Welcome, ye deserts, and ye caves! My native Land — Good Night!" (From "Childe Harold's Pilgrimages") My Soul is Dark G.G.Byron My soul is dark — Oh! quickly string The harp I yet can brook to hear; And let thy gentle fingers fling Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear. If in this heart a hope be dear, That sound shall charm it forth again: If in these eyes there lurk a tear, "Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain. But bid the strain be wild and deep, Nor let thy notes of joy be first: I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep Or else this heavy heart will burst; For it hath been by sorrow nursed, And ached in sleepless silence long: And now 'tis doomed to know the worst, And break at once — or yield to song. She is not Fair Hartley Coleridge She is not fair to outward view, As many maidens be; Her loveliness I never knew Until she smiled on me. Oh, then I saw her eye was bright, A well of love, a spring of light. But now her looks are coy and cold — To mine they ne'er reply; And yet I cease not to behold The love-light in her eye. Her very frowns are sweeter far Than smiles of other maidens are. Those Evening Bells Th.Moore Those evening bells! Those evening bells! How many a tale their music tells, Of love, and home, and that sweet time, When last I heard their soothing chime! Those joyous hours are passed away! And many a heart that then was gay Within the tomb now darkly dwells And hears no more those evening bells! And so 'twill be when I am gone, That tuneful peal will still ring on, While other bards shall walk these dells, And sing your praise, sweet evening bells! The Daffodils W.Wordsworth I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the Milky Way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay; Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee. A poet could not but be gay In such a jocund company; I gazed — and gazed — but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.
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