KUBLA KHAN IN Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Through caverns measureless to man So twice five miles of fertile ground 5 With walls and towers were girdled round: And here were gardens bright with sinuous rills, 10 But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted A savage place! as holy and enchanted As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted 15 And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething, As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing, 20 25 And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean: And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far The shadow of the dome of pleasure 30 Where was heard the mingled measure It was a miracle of rare device, 35 A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice! To such a deep delight 'twould win me, Weave a circle round him thrice, THE PAINS OF SLEEP ERE on my bed my limbs I lay, With moving lips or bended knees; My spirit I to Love compose, 5 In humble trust mine eyelids close, With reverential resignation, No wish conceived, no thought exprest, Desire with loathing strangely mixed 25 Which all confused I could not know, For all seemed guilt, remorse, or woe, So two nights passed; the night's dismay Distemper's worst calamity. The third night, when my own loud scream 30 35 40 And having thus by tears subdued My anguish to a milder mood, Such punishments, I said, were due To natures deepliest stained with sin, - 45 The unfathomable hell within The horror of their deeds to view, To know and loathe, yet wish and do! Such griefs with such men well agree, But wherefore, wherefore fall on me? And whom I love, I love indeed. 50 DEJECTION: AN ODE Written April 4, 1802 Late, late yestreen I saw the new Moon, With the old Moon in her arms; And I fear, I fear, my Master dear! BALLAD OF SIR PATRICK SPENCE. WELL! If the Bard was weather-wise who made Which better far were mute. For lo! the New-moon winter-bright! I see the old Moon in her lap, foretelling The coming on of rain and squally blast. And oh! that even now the gust were swelling, 10 And the slant night-shower driving loud and fast! 15 Those sounds which oft have raised me, whilst they awed, And sent my soul abroad, Might now perhaps their wonted impulse give, Might startle this dull pain, and make it move and live! 20 |