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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=478122" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Epipsychidion (excerpt)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Emily, <br> A ship is floating in the harbour now,<br> A wind is hovering o'er the mountain's brow;<br> There is a path on the sea's azure floor,<br> No keel has ever plough'd that path before;<br> The halcyons brood around the foamless isles;<br> The treacherous Ocean has forsworn its wiles;<br> The merry mariners are bold and free:<br> Say, my heart's sister, wilt thou sail with me?<br> Our bark is as an albatross, whose nest<br> Is a far Eden of the purple East;<br> And we between her wings will sit, while Night,<br> And Day, and Storm, and Calm, pursue their flight,<br> Our ministers, along the boundless Sea,<br> Treading each other's heels, unheededly.<br> It is an isle under Ionian skies,<br> Beautiful as a wreck of Paradise,<br> And, for the harbours are not safe and good,<br> This land would have remain'd a solitude<br> But for some pastoral people native there,<br> Who from the Elysian, clear, and golden air<br> Draw the last spirit of the age of gold,<br> Simple and spirited; innocent and bold.<br> The blue Aegean girds this chosen home,<br> With ever-changing sound and light and foam,<br> Kissing the sifted sands, and caverns hoar;<br> And all the winds wandering along the shore<br> Undulate with the undulating tide:<br> There are thick woods where sylvan forms abide;<br> And many a fountain, rivulet and pond,<br> As clear as elemental diamond,<br> Or serene morning air; and far beyond,<br> The mossy tracks made by the goats and deer<br> (Which the rough shepherd treads but once a year)<br> Pierce into glades, caverns and bowers, and halls<br> Built round with ivy, which the waterfalls<br> Illumining, with sound that never fails<br> Accompany the noonday nightingales;<br> And all the place is peopled with sweet airs;<br> The light clear element which the isle wears<br> Is heavy with the scent of lemon-flowers,<br> Which floats like mist laden with unseen showers,<br> And falls upon the eyelids like faint sleep;<br> And from the moss violets and jonquils peep<br> And dart their arrowy odour through the brain<br> Till you might faint with that delicious pain.<br> And every motion, odour, beam and tone,<br> With that deep music is in unison:<br> Which is a soul within the soul--they seem<br> Like echoes of an antenatal dream.<br> It is an isle 'twixt Heaven, Air, Earth and Sea,<br> Cradled and hung in clear tranquillity;<br> Bright as that wandering Eden Lucifer,<br> Wash'd by the soft blue Oceans of young air.<br> It is a favour'd place. Famine or Blight,<br> Pestilence, War and Earthquake, never light<br> Upon its mountain-peaks; blind vultures, they<br> Sail onward far upon their fatal way:<br> The wing&egrave;d storms, chanting their thunder-psalm<br> To other lands, leave azure chasms of calm<br> Over this isle, or weep themselves in dew,<br> From which its fields and woods ever renew<br> Their green and golden immortality.<br> And from the sea there rise, and from the sky<br> There fall, clear exhalations, soft and bright,<br> Veil after veil, each hiding some delight,<br> Which Sun or Moon or zephyr draw aside,<br> Till the isle's beauty, like a naked bride<br> Glowing at once with love and loveliness,<br> Blushes and trembles at its own excess:<br> Yet, like a buried lamp, a Soul no less<br> Burns in the heart of this delicious isle,<br> An atom of th' Eternal, whose own smile<br> Unfolds itself, and may be felt not seen<br> O'er the gray rocks, blue waves and forests green,<br> Filling their bare and void interstices.<br> But the chief marvel of the wilderness<br> Is a lone dwelling, built by whom or how<br> None of the rustic island-people know:<br> 'Tis not a tower of strength, though with its height<br> It overtops the woods; but, for delight,<br> Some wise and tender Ocean-King, ere crime<br> Had been invented, in the world's young prime,<br> Rear'd it, a wonder of that simple time,<br> An envy of the isles, a pleasure-house<br> Made sacred to his sister and his spouse.<br> It scarce seems now a wreck of human art,<br> But, as it were, Titanic; in the heart<br> Of Earth having assum'd its form, then grown<br> Out of the mountains, from the living stone,<br> Lifting itself in caverns light and high:<br> For all the antique and learned imagery<br> Has been eras'd, and in the place of it<br> The ivy and the wild-vine interknit<br> The volumes of their many-twining stems;<br> Parasite flowers illume with dewy gems<br> The lampless halls, and when they fade, the sky<br> Peeps through their winter-woof of tracery<br> With moonlight patches, or star atoms keen,<br> Or fragments of the day's intense serene;<br> Working mosaic on their Parian floors.<br> And, day and night, aloof, from the high towers<br> And terraces, the Earth and Ocean seem<br> To sleep in one another's arms, and dream<br> Of waves, flowers, clouds, woods, rocks, and all that we<br> Read in their smiles, and call reality.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> This isle and house are mine, and I have vow'd<br> Thee to be lady of the solitude.<br> And I have fitted up some chambers there<br> Looking towards the golden Eastern air,<br> And level with the living winds, which flow<br> Like waves above the living waves below.<br> I have sent books and music there, and all<br> Those instruments with which high Spirits call<br> The future from its cradle, and the past<br> Out of its grave, and make the present last<br> In thoughts and joys which sleep, but cannot die,<br> Folded within their own eternity.<br> Our simple life wants little, and true taste<br> Hires not the pale drudge Luxury to waste<br> The scene it would adorn, and therefore still,<br> Nature with all her children haunts the hill.<br> The ring-dove, in the embowering ivy, yet<br> Keeps up her love-lament, and the owls flit<br> Round the evening tower, and the young stars glance<br> Between the quick bats in their twilight dance;<br> The spotted deer bask in the fresh moonlight<br> Before our gate, and the slow, silent night<br> Is measur'd by the pants of their calm sleep.<br> Be this our home in life, and when years heap<br> Their wither'd hours, like leaves, on our decay,<br> Let us become the overhanging day,<br> The living soul of this Elysian isle,<br> Conscious, inseparable, one. Meanwhile<br> We two will rise, and sit, and walk together,<br> Under the roof of blue Ionian weather,<br> And wander in the meadows, or ascend<br> The mossy mountains, where the blue heavens bend<br> With lightest winds, to touch their paramour;<br> Or linger, where the pebble-paven shore,<br> Under the quick, faint kisses of the sea,<br> Trembles and sparkles as with ecstasy--<br> Possessing and possess'd by all that is<br> Within that calm circumference of bliss,<br> And by each other, till to love and live<br> Be one: or, at the noontide hour, arrive<br> Where some old cavern hoar seems yet to keep<br> The moonlight of the expir'd night asleep,<br> Through which the awaken'd day can never peep;<br> A veil for our seclusion, close as night's,<br> Where secure sleep may kill thine innocent lights;<br> Sleep, the fresh dew of languid love, the rain<br> Whose drops quench kisses till they burn again.<br> And we will talk, until thought's melody<br> Become too sweet for utterance, and it die<br> In words, to live again in looks, which dart<br> With thrilling tone into the voiceless heart,<br> Harmonizing silence without a sound.<br> Our breath shall intermix, our bosoms bound,<br> And our veins beat together; and our lips<br> With other eloquence than words, eclipse<br> The soul that burns between them, and the wells<br> Which boil under our being's inmost cells,<br> The fountains of our deepest life, shall be<br> Confus'd in Passion's golden purity,<br> As mountain-springs under the morning sun.<br> We shall become the same, we shall be one<br> Spirit within two frames, oh! wherefore two?<br> One passion in twin-hearts, which grows and grew,<br> Till like two meteors of expanding flame,<br> Those spheres instinct with it become the same,<br> Touch, mingle, are transfigur'd; ever still<br> Burning, yet ever inconsumable:<br> In one another's substance finding food,<br> Like flames too pure and light and unimbu'd<br> To nourish their bright lives with baser prey,<br> Which point to Heaven and cannot pass away:<br> One hope within two wills, one will beneath<br> Two overshadowing minds, one life, one death,<br> One Heaven, one Hell, one immortality,<br> And one annihilation. Woe is me!<br> The winged words on which my soul would pierce<br> Into the height of Love's rare Universe,<br> Are chains of lead around its flight of fire--<br> I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Percy+Bysshe+Shelley">Percy Bysshe Shelley</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=478122" data-title="Epipsychidion (excerpt) de Percy Bysshe Shelley" data-description="Emily, 
 A ship is floating in the harbour now,
 A wind is hovering o'er the mountain's brow;
 There is a path on the sea's azure floor,
 No keel has ever plough'd that path before;
 The halcyons brood around the foamless isles;
 The treacherous O..."></div>
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