The Witch of Atlas by Percy Bysshe Shelley
page 16 of 29 (55%)
page 16 of 29 (55%)
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Tempered like golden evening, feebly fell; _355
A green and glowing light, like that which drops From folded lilies in which glow-worms dwell, When Earth over her face Night's mantle wraps; Between the severed mountains lay on high, Over the stream, a narrow rift of sky. _360 40. And ever as she went, the Image lay With folded wings and unawakened eyes; And o'er its gentle countenance did play The busy dreams, as thick as summer flies, Chasing the rapid smiles that would not stay, _365 And drinking the warm tears, and the sweet sighs Inhaling, which, with busy murmur vain, They had aroused from that full heart and brain. 41. And ever down the prone vale, like a cloud Upon a stream of wind, the pinnace went: _370 Now lingering on the pools, in which abode The calm and darkness of the deep content In which they paused; now o'er the shallow road Of white and dancing waters, all besprent With sand and polished pebbles:--mortal boat _375 In such a shallow rapid could not float. 42. And down the earthquaking cataracts which shiver Their snow-like waters into golden air, |
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