I.
The golden gates of Sleep unbar
Where Strength and Beauty, met together,
Kindle their image like a star
In a sea of glassy weather!
Night, with all thy stars look down,--
Darkness, weep thy holiest dew,--
Never smiled the inconstant moon
On a pair so true.
Let eyes not see their own delight;--
Haste, swift Hour, and thy flight
Oft renew.
II.
Fairies, sprites, and angels, keep her!
Holy stars, permit no wrong!
And return to wake the sleeper,
Dawn,—ere it be long!
O joy! O fear! what will be done
In the absence of the sun!
Come along!
Shelley makes the sheer joy of love come alive with the vibrancy of his lightning words! PBS lives!
This poem took my breath away! I couldn't even begin to tell the public what it meant me. The closest I will be able to muster up is pure love in the raw. Cupid arrow from the heaven itself.
Words alone makes the poem like a song even with instruments. So pure! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Captivating imagery and flowing words. Masterful composition.