XXI. She looked, the flames were dim, the flood Winding through hills in solitude; Those marble shapes then seemed to quiver, And their fair limbs to float in motion, Like weeds unfolding in the ocean. XXII. And their lips moved; one seemed to speak, The statues gave a joyous scream, XXIII. The dizzy flight of that phantom pale Of her dark eyes the dream did creep, TO CONSTANTIA, SINGING. I. THUS to be lost and thus to sink and die, Perchance were death indeed! - Constantia, turn! In thy dark eyes a power like light doth lie, Even though the sounds which were thy voice, which burn Between thy lips, are laid to sleep; Within thy breath, and on thy hair, like odour it is yet, And from thy touch like fire doth leap. Even while I write, my burning cheeks are wet, Alas, that the torn heart can bleed, but not forget! II. A breathless awe, like the swift change Unseen, but felt in youthful slumbers, Thou breathest now in fast ascending numbers. And on my shoulders wings are woven, Beyond the mighty moons that wane Upon the verge of nature's utmost sphere, Till the world's shadowy walls are past and disappear. O'ershadowing it with soft and lulling wings, Teach witchcraft to the instrumental strings. My heart is quivering like a flame; As morning dew, that in the sunbeam dies, IV. I have no life, Constantia, now, but thee, On which, like one in trance upborne, Now 'tis the breath of summer night, Which when the starry waters sleep, Round western isles, with incense-blossoms bright, Lingering, suspends my soul in its voluptuous flight. TO CONSTANTIA. I. THE rose that drinks the fountain dew For the planet of frost, so cold and bright, II. Such is my heart roses are fair, And that at best a withered blossom; But thy false care did idly wear Its withered leaves in a faithless bosom ; And fed with love, like air and dew, Its growth . . . SONNET. OZYMANDIAS. I MET a traveller from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desart. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, |