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Stanzas Written in Dejection, near Naples

The sun is warm, the sky is clear,
The waves are dancing fast and bright,
Blue isles and snowy mountains wear
The purple noon's transparent might,
The breath of the moist earth is light,
Around its unexpanded buds;
Like many a voice of one delight,
The winds, the birds, the ocean floods,
The City's voice itself, is soft like Solitude's.
 
I see the Deep's untrampled floor
With green and purple seaweeds strown;
I see the waves upon the shore,
Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown:
I sit upon the sands alone,—
The lightning of the noontide ocean
Is flashing round me, and a tone
Arises from its measured motion,
How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion.
 
Alas! I have nor hope nor health,
Nor peace within nor calm around,
Nor that content surpassing wealth
The sage in meditation found,
And walked with inward glory crowned—
Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure.
Others I see whom these surround—
Smiling they live, and call life pleasure;
To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.
 
Yet now despair itself is mild,
Even as the winds and waters are;
I could lie down like a tired child,
And weep away the life of care
Which I have borne and yet must bear,
Till death like sleep might steal on me,
And I might feel in the warm air
My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea
Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.
 
Some might lament that I were cold,
As I, when this sweet day is gone,
Which my lost heart, too soon grown old,
Insults with this untimely moan;
They might lament—for I am one
Whom men love not,—and yet regret,
Unlike this day, which, when the sun
Shall on its stainless glory set,
Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet.
 

To the Moon [fragment]

Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth,
And ever changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?
 

Longer Boats (T2 Version)

Longer boats are coming to win us
They're coming to win us, they're coming to win us
Longer boats are coming to win us
Hold on to the shore, or -
They'll be taking the key from the door
 
Raise your mind up and look around
You may see them, yes they're looking down
On a lonely asteroid
In a vacant void
Dying - but not destroyed!
 
Longer boats are coming to win us
They're coming to win us, they're coming to win us
Longer boats are coming to win us
Hold on to the shore, or -
They'll be taking the key from the door
 
'Beloved people, I come to you
In the name of all things good and beautiful
To remind you that now is the time
To act upon what's best inside us all
Our destiny is one, let our hearts beat as one'
 
Longer boats, they're coming to win us
Longer boats, they're coming to win us
Hold on, hold on, hold on to the shore
 
Raise your minds up and look around
You may see them everywhere you turn
Down below, up above, we got to fight
For peace and love
Give 'em hell
Give 'em hell for peace and love
 

The Land of Nod

From breakfast on through all the day
At home among my friends I stay,
But every night I go abroad
Afar into the land of Nod.
 
All by myself I have to go,
With none to tell me what to do--
All alone beside the streams
And up the mountain-sides of dreams.
 
The strangest things are these for me,
Both things to eat and things to see,
And many frightening sights abroad
Till morning in the land of Nod.
 
Try as I like to find the way,
I never can get back by day,
Nor can remember plain and clear
The curious music that I hear.
 

The Land of Counterpane

When I was sick and lay a-bed,
I had two pillows at my head,
And all my toys beside me lay,
To keep me happy all the day.
 
And sometimes for an hour or so
I watched my leaden soldiers go,
With different uniforms and drills,
Among the bed-clothes, through the hills;
 
And sometimes sent my ships in fleets
All up and down among the sheets;
Or brought my trees and houses out,
And planted cities all about.
 
I was the giant great and still
That sits upon the pillow-hill,
And sees before him, dale and plain,
The pleasant land of counterpane.
 

A Song of the Road

The gauger walked with willing foot,
And aye the gauger played the flute;
And what should Master Gauger play
But Over the hills and far away?
 
Whene'er I buckle on my pack
And foot it gaily in the track,
A pleasant gauger, long since dead,
I hear you fluting on ahead.
 
You go with me the self-same way --
The self-same air for me you play;
For I do think and so do you
It is the tune to travel to.
 
For who would gravely set his face
To go to this or t'other place?
There's nothing under Heav'n so blue
That's fairly worth the travelling to.
 
On every hand the roads begin,
And people walk with zeal therein;
But wheresoe'er the highways tend,
Be sure there's nothing at the end.
 
Then follow you, wherever hie
The travelling mountains of the sky,
Or let the streams in civil mode
Direct your choice upon a road;
 
For one and all, or high or low,
Will lead you where you wish to go;
And one and all go night and day
Over the hills and far away!
 

Let Beauty Awake

Let Beauty awake in the morn from beautiful dreams,
Beauty awake from rest!
Let Beauty awake
For Beauty's sake
In the hour when the birds awake in the brake
And the stars are bright in the west!
 
Let Beauty awake in the eve from the slumber of day,
Awake in the crimson eve!
In the day's dusk end
When the shades ascend,
Let her wake to the kiss of a tender friend
To render again and receive!
 

Brennivín

Ævi mín er eintómt hlaup
Efter brennivíni
Geturðu sett á glasið í Staup
Gömlu Fyllisvíni
 
Where I'm walking alone, thirst is my worst enemy
My measure of mead, treasure in need
Up to the Brim
One down on the heart can feel like the rain
Crying on dry desert sands
My story is sad, nothing to add
Days have been dim
 
Drink while you are able!
 
Ævi mín er eintómt hlaup
Efter brennivíni
Geturðu sett á glasið í Staup
Gömlu Fyllisvíni
 
I have squandered my days
Cold is the gold in my grip
Dark mold on my mound
All I have found
Deep in a jar
Too many a drunken poet has praised ale in a failed fairytale
My measure of mead, treasure indeed
Up to the Brim
 
Drink while you are able!
 
Ævi mín er eintómt hlaup
Efter brennivíni
Geturðu sett á glasið í Staup
Gömlu Fyllisvíni
 

The Land of Story-Books

At evening when the lamp is lit,
Around the fire my parents sit;
They sit at home and talk and sing,
And do not play at anything.
 
Now, with my little gun, I crawl
All in the dark along the wall,
And follow round the forest track
Away behind the sofa back.
 
There, in the night, where none can spy,
All in my hunter's camp I lie,
And play at books that I have read
Till it is time to go to bed.
 
These are the hills, these are the woods,
These are my starry solitudes;
And there the river by whose brink
The roaring lions come to drink.
 
I see the others far away
As if in firelit camp they lay,
And I, like to an Indian scout,
Around their party prowled about.
 
So when my nurse comes in for me,
Home I return across the sea,
And go to bed with backward looks
At my dear land of Story-books.
 

The Wind

I saw you toss the kites on high
And blow the birds about the sky;
And all around I heard you pass,
Like ladies' skirts across the grass--
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!
 
I saw the different things you did,
But always you yourself you hid.
I felt you push, I heard you call,
I could not see yourself at all--
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!
 
O you that are so strong and cold,
O blower, are you young or old?
Are you a beast of field and tree,
Or just a stronger child than me?
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!
 

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