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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=539804" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Shelley's Centenary</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Within a narrow span of time,<br>Three princes of the realm of rhyme,<br>At height of youth or manhood's prime,<br>From earth took wing,<br>To join the fellowship sublime<br>Who, dead, yet sing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He, first, his earliest wreath who wove<br>Of laurel grown in Latmian grove,<br>Conquered by pain and hapless love<br>Found calmer home,<br>Roofed by the heaven that glows above<br>Eternal Rome.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A fierier soul, its own fierce prey,<br>And cumbered with more mortal clay,<br>At Missolonghi flamed away,<br>And left the air<br>Reverberating to this day<br>Its loud despair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alike remote from Byron's scorn,<br>And Keats's magic as of morn<br>Bursting for ever newly-born<br>On forests old,<br>Waking a hoary world forlorn<br>With touch of gold,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shelley, the cloud-begot, who grew<br>Nourished on air and sun and dew,<br>Into that Essence whence he drew<br>His life and lyre<br>Was fittingly resolved anew<br>Through wave and fire.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twas like his rapid soul! 'Twas meet<br>That he, who brooked not Time's slow feet,<br>With passage thus abrupt and fleet<br>Should hurry hence,<br>Eager the Great Perhaps to greet<br>With Why? and Whence?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Impatient of the world's fixed way,<br>He ne'er could suffer God's delay,<br>But all the future in a day<br>Would build divine,<br>And the whole past in ruins lay,<br>An emptied shrine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Vain vision! but the glow, the fire,<br>The passion of benign desire,<br>The glorious yearning, lift him higher<br>Than many a soul<br>That mounts a million paces nigher<br>Its meaner goal.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And power is his, if naught besides,<br>In that thin ether where he rides,<br>Above the roar of human tides<br>To ascend afar,<br>Lost in a storm of light that hides<br>His dizzy car.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Below, the unhastening world toils on,<br>And here and there are victories won,<br>Some dragon slain, some justice done,<br>While, through the skies,<br>A meteor rushing on the sun,<br>He flares and dies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But, as he cleaves yon ether clear<br>Notes from the unattempted Sphere<br>He scatters to the enchanted ear<br>Of earth's dim throng,<br>Whose dissonance doth more endear<br>The showering song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In other shapes than he forecast<br>The world is moulded: his fierce blast,--<br>His wild assault upon the Past,--<br>These things are vain;<br>Revolt is transient: what _must_ last<br>Is that pure strain,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Which seems the wandering voices blent<br>Of every virgin element,--<br>A sound from ocean caverns sent,--<br>An airy call<br>From the pavilioned firmament<br>O'erdoming all.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And in this world of worldlings, where<br>Souls rust in apathy, and ne'er<br>A great emotion shakes the air,<br>And life flags tame,<br>And rare is noble impulse, rare<br>The impassioned aim,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Tis no mean fortune to have heard<br>A singer who, if errors blurred<br>His sight, had yet a spirit stirred<br>By vast desire,<br>And ardour fledging the swift word<br>With plumes of fire.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A creature of impetuous breath,<br>Our torpor deadlier than death<br>He knew not; whatsoe'er he saith<br>Flashes with life:<br>He spurreth men, he quickeneth<br>To splendid strife.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And in his gusts of song he brings<br>Wild odours shaken from strange wings,<br>And unfamiliar whisperings<br>From far lips blown,<br>While all the rapturous heart of things<br>Throbs through his own,--</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His own that from the burning pyre<br>One who had loved his wind-swept lyre<br>Out of the sharp teeth of the fire<br>Unmolten drew,<br>Beside the sea that in her ire<br>Smote him and slew.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Watson">William Watson</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=539804" data-title="Shelley's Centenary de William Watson" data-description="Within a narrow span of time,
Three princes of the realm of rhyme,
At height of youth or manhood's prime,
From earth took wing,
To join the fellowship sublime
Who, dead, yet sing.

He, first, his earliest wreath who wove
Of laurel grown in Latmian..."></div>
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