Part ii

._

Music's golden tongue Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor.

_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 3._

The silver snarling trumpets 'gan to chide.

_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 4._

Asleep in lap of legends old.

_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 15._

Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, Flushing his brow.

_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 16._

A poor, weak, palsy-stricken, churchyard thing.

_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 18._

As though a rose should shut and be a bud again.

_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 27._

And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon.

_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 30._

He play'd an ancient ditty long since mute, In Provence call'd "La belle dame sans mercy."

_The Eve of St. Agnes. Stanza 33._

That large utterance of the early gods!

_Hyperion. Book i ._

Those green-robed senators of mighty woods, Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars, Dream, and so dream all night without a stir.

_Hyperion. Book i ._

The days of peace and slumberous calm are fled.

_Hyperion.