Unfelt unheard, unseen, I've left my little queen, Her languid arms in silver slumber lying: Ah! through their nestling touch, Who---who could tell how much There is for madness---cruel, or complying? Those faery lids how sleek! Those lips how moist!---they speak, In ripest quiet, shadows of sweet sounds: Into my fancy's ear Melting a burden dear, How "Love doth know no fulness, nor no bounds." True!---tender monitors! I bend unto your laws: This sweetest day for dalliance was born! So, without more ado, I'll feel my heaven anew, For all the blushing of the hasty morn. ...

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Happy is England! I could be content To see no other verdure than its own; To feel no other breezes than are blown Through its tall woods with high romances blent; Yet do I sometimes feel a languishment For skies Italian, and an inward groan To sit upon an Alp as on a throne, And half forget what world or worldling meant. Happy is England, sweet her artless daughters; Enough their simple loveliness for me, Enough their whitest arms in silence clinging; Yet do I often warmly burn to see Beauties of ...

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Much have I travel'd in the realms of gold, And many goodly states and kingdoms seen; Round many western islands have I been Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. Oft of one wide expanse had I been told That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne; Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then I felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He star'd ...

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