Explore "On Seeing the Elgin Marbles" by John Keats on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
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.
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 indescribable feud; / 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.