O Proserpina, For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou let’st fall From Dis’s waggon! Daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno’s eyes, Or Cytherea’s breath; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phœbus in his strength, a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips, and The crown-imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one!
Love wakes men, once a lifetime each: They lift their heavy lids, and look; And, lo, what one sweet page can teach, They read with joy, then shut the book.
I like the Bible folded between lids of cloth, or calfskin, or morocco, but I like it better when, in the shape of a man, it goes out into the world—a Bible illustrated.thomas de witt talmage
Forth from his dark and lonely hiding place (Portentous-sight!) the owlet Atheism, Sailing an obscene wings athwart the noon, Drops his blue-fringèd lids, and holds them close, And hooting at the glorious sun in Heaven, Cries out, "Where is it?"Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Dream on! Though Heaven may woo our open eyes, Through their closed lids we look on fairer skies; Truth is for other worlds, and hope for this; The cheating future lends the present's bliss; Life is a running shade, with fettered hands, That chases phantoms over shifting sands; Death a still spectre on a marble seat, With ever clutching palms and shackled feet; The airy shapes that mock life's slender chain, The flying joys he strives to clasp in vain, Death only grasps; to live is to pursue, Dream on! there 's nothing but illusion true!
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again.Sylvia Plath
Oh, raise your deep-fringed lids that close To wrap you in some sweet dream's thrall; I am the spectre of the rose You wore but last night at the ball.
Eagle of flowers! I see thee stand, And on the sun's noon-glory gaze; With eye like his, thy lids expand, And fringe their disk with golden rays: Though fix'd on earth, in darkness rooted there, Light is thy element, thy dwelling air, Thy prospect heaven.james montgomery
'Twas noon; and every orange bud Hung languid o'er the crystal flood, Faint as the lids of maiden eyes Beneath a lover's burning sighs!thomas moore
Beside the brook and on the umbered meadow, Where yellow fern-tufts fleck the faded ground, With folded lids beneath their palmy shadow The gentian nods in dewy slumbers bound.sarah helen whitman
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