Epic & Romantic Poetry(1) |
Ozymandias |
by Percy Bysshe Shelley |
I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert...Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command Tell that it's sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed. And on the pedestal these words appear: 'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: 'Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair' Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away. |
The Kiss |
by Dante Gabriel Rossetti |
What smouldering senses in death's sick delay Or seizure of malign vicissitude Can rob this body of honour, or denude This soul of wedding-raiment worn to-day? For lo! even now my lady's lips did play With these my lips such consonant interlude Such laurelled Orpheus longed for when he wooed The half-drawn hungering face with that last lay. I was a child beneath her touch, - a man When breast to breast we clung, even I and she, - A spirit when her spirit looked through me, - A god when all our life-breath met to fan Our life-blood, till love's emulous ardours ran, Fire within fire, desire in deity. |
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Green |
by D H Lawrence |
The dawn was apple green, The sky was green wine held up in the sun, The moon was a golden petal between. She opened her eyes, and green They shone, clear like flowers undone For the first time, now for the first time seen. |
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