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Did anyone ever have a boring dream?
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Time, you old gypsy man, will you not stay, put up your caravan just for one day?
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I saw with open eyes, Singing birds sweet, Sold in the shops, For the people to eat, Sold in the shops of, Stupidity Street.
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The handwriting on the wall may be a forgery.
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Some things have to be believed to be seen.
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Reason has moons, but moons not hersLie mirror'd on her sea,Confounding her astronomers,But, O! delighting me.
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Without a wish, without a will, / I stood upon that silent hill / And stared into the sky until / My eyes were blind with stars and still / I stared into the sky.
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God loves an idle rainbow, Not less than labouring seas.
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'Twould ring the bells of HeavenThe wildest peal for years,If Parson lost his sensesAnd people came to theirs,And he and they togetherKnelt down with angry prayersFor tamed and shabby tigersAnd dancing dogs and bears,And wretched, blind, pit ponies,And little hunted hares.
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When stately ships are twirled and spun / Like whipping tops and help there's none / And mighty ships ten thousand ton / Go down like lumps of lead.
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I did not pray Him to lay bare The mystery to me, Enough the rose was Heaven to smell, And His own face to see.
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Time, you old gipsy man, / Will you not stay, / Put up your caravan / Just for one day?
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God loves an idle rainbow, no less than laboring seas.
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I climbed a hill as light fell short, / And rooks came home in scramble sort, / And filled the trees and flapped and fought / And sang themselves to sleep.