Verse > Anthologies > William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. > The Book of Georgian Verse
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William Stanley Braithwaite, ed.  The Book of Georgian Verse.  1909.
 
On Seeing the Elgin Marbles
By John Keats (1795–1821)
 
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.        5
  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-conceivèd glories of the brain
  Bring round the heart an undescribable feud;        10
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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