For oft, when on my couch I lie And then my heart with pleasure fills, 1804. 1807. 24 William Wordsworth. THE TIGER TIGER, tiger, burning bright Could frame thy fearful symmetry? 4 In what distant deeps or skies On what wings dare he aspire? 8 And what shoulder and what art Could twist the sinews of thy heart? 12 What the hammer? What the chain? 16 To Night When the stars threw down their spears, Did He who made the lamb make thee? Tiger, tiger, burning bright In the forests of the night, Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? 1794. 20 24 William Blake. TO NIGHT SWIFTLY walk over the western wave, Out of the misty eastern cave Wrap thy form in a mantle gray, Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day, Then wander oe'r city, and sea, and land, Touching all with thine opiate wand→ Come, long sought! 7 14 When I arose and saw the dawn, I sigh'd for thee; When light rode high, and the dew was gone, And noon lay heavy on flower and tree, And the weary Day turn'd to his rest Lingering like an unloved guest, I sigh'd for thee. Thy brother Death came, and cried Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed, Shall I nestle near thy side? Would'st thou me?--And I replied Death will come when thou art dead, Sleep will come when thou art fled; 1821. 1824. 21 28 35 Percy Bysshe Shelley. HYMN OF PAN FROM the forests and highlands We come, we come; From the river-girt islands, Where loud waves are dumb Hymn of Pan The wind in the reeds and the rushes, Were as silent as ever old Tmolus was, Liquid Peneus was flowing, And all dark Tempe lay The light of the dying day, Speeded by my sweet pipings. The Sileni, and Sylvans, and Fauns, And the Nymphs of the woods and waves, To the edge of the moist river-lawns, And the brink of the dewy caves, And all that did then attend and follow Were silent with love, as you now, Apollo, With envy of my sweet pipings. I sang of the dancing stars, I sang of the dædal Earth, 12 24 And of Heaven-and the giant wars, 1820. 1824. HYMN TO THE NIGHT I HEARD the trailing garments of the Night I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light I felt her presence, by its spell of might, The calm, majestic presence of the Night, I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight, That fill the haunted chambers of the Night, From the cool cisterns of the midnight air My spirit drank repose; The fountain of perpetual peace flows there,From those deep cisterns flows. O holy Night! from thee I learn to bear Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care, 12 16 20 |