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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 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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God loves an idle rainbow, no less than laboring seas.
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God loves an idle rainbow, Not less than labouring seas.
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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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The handwriting on the wall may be a forgery.
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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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'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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Time, you old gipsy man, / Will you not stay, / Put up your caravan / Just for one day?
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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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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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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.
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See an old unhappy bull, / Sick in soul and body both.