The Triumph of Life

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

The Triumph of Life

Swift as a spirit hastening to his task

Of glory & of good, the Sun sprang forth

Rejoicing in his splendour, & the mask

Of darkness fell from the awakened Earth.

The smokeless altars of the mountain snows

Flamed above crimson clouds, & at the birth

Of light, the Ocean's orison arose

To which the birds tempered their matin lay,

All flowers in field or forest which unclose

Their trembling eyelids to the kiss of day,

Swinging their censers in the element,

With orient incense lit by the new ray

Burned slow & inconsumably, & sent

Their odorous sighs up to the smiling air,

And in succession due, did Continent,

Isle, Ocean, & all things that in them wear

The form & character of mortal mould

Rise as the Sun their father rose, to bear

Their portion of the toil which he of old

Took as his own & then imposed on them;

But I, whom thoughts which must remain untold

Had kept as wakeful as the stars that gem

The cone of night, now they were laid asleep,

Stretched my faint limbs beneath the hoary stem

Which an old chestnut flung athwart the steep

Of a green Apennine: before me fled

The night; behind me rose the day; the Deep

Was at my feet, & Heaven above my head

When a strange trance over my fancy grew

Which was not slumber, for the shade it spread

Was so transparent that the scene came through

As clear as when a veil of light is drawn

O'er evening hills they glimmer; and I knew

That I had felt the freshness of that dawn,

Bathed in the same cold dew my brow & hair

And sate as thus upon that slope of lawn

Under the self same bough, & heard as there

The birds, the fountains & the Ocean hold

Sweet talk in music through the enamoured air.

And then a Vision on my brain was rolled.

From “Later Life”

by Christina Rossetti

We lack, yet cannot fix upon the lack:

Not this, nor that; yet somewhat, certainly.

We see the things we do not yearn to see

Around us: and what see we glancing back?

Lost hopes that leave our hearts upon the rack,

Hopes that were never ours yet seem’d to be,

For which we steer’d on life’s salt stormy sea

Braving the sunstroke and the frozen pack.

If thus to look behind is all in vain,

And all in vain to look to left or right,

Why face we not our future once again,

Launching with hardier hearts across the main,

Straining dim eyes to catch the invisible sight,

And strong to bear ourselves in patient pain?

Star Sirius and the Pole Star dwell afar

Beyond the drawings each of other’s strength:

One blazes through the brief bright summer’s length

Lavishing life-heat from a flaming car;

While one unchangeable upon a throne

Broods o’er the frozen heart of earth alone,

Content to reign the bright particular star

Of some who wander or of some who groan.

They own no drawings each of other’s strength,

Nor vibrate in a visible sympathy,

Nor veer along their courses each toward

Yet are their orbits pitch’d in harmony

Of one dear heaven, across whose depth and length

Mayhap they talk together without speech.

They May Rail at this Life

by Thomas Moore

They may rail at this life -- from the hour I began it

I found it a life full of kindness and bliss;

And, until they can show me some happier planet,

More social and bright, I'll content me with this.

As long as the world has such lips and such eyes

As before me this moment enraptured I see,

They may say what they will of their orbs in the skies,

But this earth is the planet for you, love, and me.

In Mercury's star, where each moment can bring them

New sunshine and wit from the fountain on high,

Though the nymphs may have livelier poets to sing them,

They've none, even there, more enamour'd than I.

And, as long as this harp can be waken'd to love,

And that eye its divine inspiration shall be,

They may talk as they will of their Edens above,

But this earth is the planet for you, love, and me.

In that star of the west, by whose shadowy splendour,

At twilight so often we've roam'd through the dew,

There are maidens, perhaps, who have bosoms as tender,

And look, in their twilights, as lovely as you.

But though they were even more bright than the queen

Of that Isle they inhabit in heaven's blue sea,

As I never those fair young celestials have seen,

Why -- this earth is the planet for you, love, and me.

As for those chilly orbs on the verge of creation,

Where sunshine and smiles must be equally rare,

Did they want a supply of cold hearts for that station,

Heaven knows we have plenty on earth we could spare,

Oh! think what a world we should have of it here,

If the haters of peace, of affection and glee,

Were to fly up to Saturn's comfortless sphere,

And leave earth to such spirits as you, love, and me.