32 quotes
The soul of man is larger than the sky,
Deeper than ocean, or the abysmal dark
Of the unfathomed center.
Poems (1851)
Rising now, anon descending,
Swift and bright as shooting stars,
Thus we travel glad and free.
Poems (1851)
He grew, and grew,
A star-bright sign of fated empery;
And all conspiring omens led him on
To lofty purpose and pre-eminence.
Poems (1851)
Jove is not one half so merciless
As thou art to thyself. But fare thee well;
Our love is all as stubborn as thy pride,
And swift as firm.
Poems (1851)
The glad sons of the deliver'd earth
Shall yearly raise their multitudinous voice,
Hymning great Jove, the God of Liberty!
Poems (1851)
Her very frowns are fairer far
Than smiles of other maidens are.
Poems (1851)
Mortal! fear no more,—
The reign is past of ancient violence;
And Jove hath sworn that time shall not deface,
Nor death destroy, nor mutability
Perplex the truth of love.
Poems (1851)
Sweet were change,
If but a change of tortures!
Poems (1851)
On this hapless earth
There ’s small sincerity of mirth,
And laughter oft is but an art
To drown the outcry of the heart.
Poems (1851)
Thus he used to prate,
Till we almost believed him.
Poems (1851)
Then would he swear
That he would conquer time; that in his reign
It never should be winter; he would have
No pain, no growing old, no death at all.
Poems (1851)
Go your way. Forget Prometheus,
And all the woe that he is doom'd to bear;
By his own choice this vile estate preferring
To ignorant bliss and unfelt slavery.
Poems (1851)
What were Jove himself
If pity had not been? Was not he once
A hapless babe, condemn'd to die ere born?
Poems (1851)
We have winning wiles and witcheries,
Such incantations as thy sterner wit
Did never dream of. Time hath been ere now
That Jove hath listen'd to our minstrelsy.
Till wrath would seem to drop out of his soul
Like a forgotten thing.
Poems (1851)
Hard I strove
To put away my immortality,
Till my collected spirits swell'd my heart
Almost to bursting; but the strife is past.
Poems (1851)
Oh, where is man—
That mortal god, that hath no mortal kin
Or like on earth? Shall Nature's orator—
The interpreter of all her mystic strains —
Shall he be mute in Nature's jubilee?
Poems (1851)
With all your music, loud and lustily,
With every dainty joy of sight and smell,
Prepare a banquet meet to entertain
The Lord of Thunder, that hath set you free
From old oppression.
Poems (1851)
Great poet, 'twas thy art
To know thyself, and in thyself to be
Whate'er Love, Hate, Ambition, Destiny,
Or the firm, fatal purpose of the Heart
Can make of Man. Yet thou wert still the same,
Serene of thought, unhurt by thy own flame.
Poems (1851)
Eternal landmark to the tide of time.
Swift generations, that forget each other,
Shall still keep up the memory of my shame
Till I am grown an unbelieved fable.
Poems (1851)
But what is Freedom? Rightly understood,
A universal license to be good.