Lord of
Lord of
heart keys
You gave me the key to your heart, my love, then why did you make me knock?
sky mountain wave
Are not the mountains, waves, and skies as much a part of me, as I of them?
dream grief believe
I have not loved the world, nor the world me, but let us part fair foes; I do believe, though I have found them not, that there may be words which are things, hopes which will not deceive, and virtues which are merciful, or weave snares for the failing: I would also deem o'er others' griefs that some sincerely grieve; that two, or one, are almost what they seem, that goodness is no name, and happiness no dream.
climbing cities feelings
I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me: and to me High mountains are a feeling, but the hum of human cities torture.
oddities age
This is the age of oddities let loose.
heart grieving years
In secret we met - In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee? - With silence and tears
fall eye saws
And those who saw, it did surprise, Such drops could fall from human eyes.
dream i-had-a-dream
I had a dream, which was not at all a dream.
adolescence
So much alarmed that she is quite alarming
confidence believe ice
As soon seek roses in December, ice in June, Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaff Believe a woman or an epitaph Or any other thing that’s false Before you trust in critics.
time fear fool
We are all the fools of time and terror: Days Steal on us and steal from us; yet we live, Loathing our life, and dreading still to die.
sleep eye heart
My slumbers--if I slumber--are not sleep, But a continuance of enduring thought, Which then I can resist not: in my heart There is a vigil, and these eyes but close To look within; and yet I live, and bear The aspect and the form of breathing men.
heart moon night
So we'll go no more a-roving So late into the night, Though the heart still be as loving, And the moon still be as bright. For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul outwears the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And love itself have rest. Though the night was made for loving, And the day returns too soon, Yet we'll go no more a-roving By the light of the moon.
men old-man difficult
Old man! 'Tis not difficult to die.