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- 1816
- ON SEEING THE ELGIN MARBLES
- by John Keats
-
- My spirit is too weak- mortality
- Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep,
- And each imagin'd pinnacle and steep
- Of godlike hardship tells me I must die
- Like a sick Eagle looking at the sky.
- Yet 'tis a gentle luxury to weep
- That I have not the cloudy winds to keep
- Fresh for the opening of the morning's eye.
- Such dim-conceived glories of the brain
- Bring round the heart an undescribable feud;
- So do these wonders a most dizzy pain,
- That mingles Grecian grandeur with the rude
- Wasting of old Time- with a billowy main-
- A sun- a shadow of a magnitude.
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- THE END
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