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First Line: Not in the crystal air of a greek glen



Not in the crystal air of a Greek glen,
Not in the houses of imperial Rome,

Lived he, who wore this beauty among men:
Not in the crystal air of a Greek glen,
No classic city was his ancient home.
Not in the houses of imperial Rome,
What happy country claims his fair youth then,
Lived he, who wore this beauty among men:
Her pride? and what his fortunate lineage?
No classic city was his ancient home.
Here is no common man of every day,
What happy country claims his fair youth then,
This man, whose full and gleaming eyes assuage
Her pride? and what his fortunate lineage?
Here is no common man of every day,
Never their longing, be that what it may:
Of dreamland only he is citizen,
This man, whose full and gleaming eyes assuage
Never their longing, be that what it may:
Beyond the flying of the last sea's foam.
Set him beneath the Athenian olive trees,
Of dreamland only he is citizen,
Beyond the flying of the last sea's foam.
To speak with Marathonians: or to task
Set him beneath the Athenian olive trees,
The wise serenity of Socrates;
To speak with Marathonians: or to task
Asking, what other men dare never ask.
The wise serenity of Socrates;
Love of his country and his gods? Not these
The master thoughts, that comfort his strange heart,
Asking, what other men dare never ask.
Love of his country and his gods? Not these
When life grows difficult, and the lights dim:
The master thoughts, that comfort his strange heart,
In him is no simplicity, but art
When life grows difficult, and the lights dim:
Is all in all, for life and death, to him:
And whoso looks upon that fair face, sees
In him is no simplicity, but art
Is all in all, for life and death, to him:
No nature there: only a magic mask.
And whoso looks upon that fair face, sees
Or set this man beside the Roman lords,
To vote upon the fate of Catiline;
No nature there: only a magic mask.
Or set this man beside the Roman lords,
Or in a battle of stout Roman swords,
Where strength and virtue were one thing divine:
To vote upon the fate of Catiline;
Or bind him to the cross with Punic cords.
Or in a battle of stout Roman swords,
Where strength and virtue were one thing divine:
Think you, this unknown and mysterious man
Or bind him to the cross with Punic cords.
Had played the Roman, with that wistful smile,
Those looks not moulded on a Roman plan,
Think you, this unknown and mysterious man
But full of witcheries and secret guile?
Had played the Roman, with that wistful smile,
Those looks not moulded on a Roman plan,
Think you, those lips had framed true Roman words,
Whose very curves have something Sibylline?
But full of witcheries and secret guile?
Think you, those lips had framed true Roman words,
Thou wouldst but laugh, were one to question thee:
Whose very curves have something Sibylline?
Laugh with malign, bright eyes, and curious joy.
Thou'rt fallen in love with thine own mystery!
Thou wouldst but laugh, were one to question thee:
And yet thou art no Sibyl, but a boy.
Laugh with malign, bright eyes, and curious joy.
What wondrous land within the unvoyaged sea
Thou'rt fallen in love with thine own mystery!
And yet thou art no Sibyl, but a boy.
Haunts then thy thoughts, thy memories, thy dreams?
What wondrous land within the unvoyaged sea
Nay! be my friend; and share with me thy past:
Haunts then thy thoughts, thy memories, thy dreams?
If haply I may catch enchaunting gleams,
Catch marvellous music, while our friendship last:
Nay! be my friend; and share with me thy past:
Tell me thy visions: though their true home be
If haply I may catch enchaunting gleams,
Catch marvellous music, while our friendship last:
Some land, that was a legend in old Troy.

Tell me thy visions: though their true home be

Some land, that was a legend in old Troy.






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