And on the pedestal these words appear my name is

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And on the pedestal these words appear: "My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!" Nothing beside remains: round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare, The lone and level sands stretch far away. Return to Table of Contents"On First Looking into Chapman's Homer" by John KeatsMuch have I traveled in the realms of gold,And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;Round many western islands have I beenWhich bards in fealty to Apollo hold.Oft of one wide expanse had I been told That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne;
Yet did I never breathe its pure sereneTill I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:Then felt I like some watcher of the skiesWhen a new planet swims into his ken;Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyesHe stared at the pacific--and all his menLooked at each other with a wild surmise--Silent, upon a peak in Darien.Return to Table of Contents“When I have Fears that I may Cease to Be” (1818) by John KeatsWhen I have fears that I may cease to beBefore my pen has glean’d*my teeming brain,Before high-piled books, in charactery*,Hold like rich garners*the full ripen’d grain;When I behold, upon the night's starr’d face,Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,And think that I may never live to traceTheir shadows, with the magic hand of chance;And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,That I shall never look upon thee more,Never have relish in the faery powerOf unreflecting love;--then on the shoreOf the wide world I stand alone, and thinkTill love and fame to nothingness do sink. Line 2: “glean’d” = express ideas from; “teeming” = full, overflowingLine 3: “charactery” = in letters and wordsLine 4: “garners” = binding, such as ropesReturn to Table of Contents"Bright Star" by John KeatsBright star, would I were stedfast as thou art-- Not in lone splendour hung aloft the nightAnd watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,*The moving waters at their priestlike taskOf pure ablution*round earth's human shores,Or gazing on the new soft-fallen maskOf snow upon the mountains and the moors--No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable,Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,And so live ever--or else swoon to death.Line 4: "Eremite": a religious hermitLine 5: "ablution": ritual purificationReturn to Table of ContentsSonnet 43 from Songs from the Portugueseby Elizabeth Barrett BrowningHow do I love thee? Let me count the ways.I love thee to the depth and breadth and heightMy soul can reach, when feeling out of sightFor the ends of Being and ideal Grace.I love thee to the level of everyday'sMost quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

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