My spirit is too weak; mortality <br />Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep, <br />And each imagined pinnacle and steep <br />Of godlike hardship tells me I must die <br />Like a sick eagle looking at the sky. <br />Yet 'tis a gentle luxury to weep, <br />That I have not the cloudy winds to keep <br />Fresh for the opening of the morning's eye. <br />Such dim-conceived glories of the brain <br />Bring round the heart an indescribable feud; <br />So do these wonders a most dizzy pain, <br />That mingles Grecian grandeur with the rude <br />Wasting of old Time -with a billowy main, <br />A sun, a shadow of a magnitude.<br /><br />John Keats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-seeing-the-elgin-marbles-for-the-first-time/
