• 

  Shan
  Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;
  I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
  The evil that men do lives after them;
  The good is oft interred with their bones;
  So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus
  Hath told you Caesar was ambitious:
  If it were so, it was a grievous fault,
  And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it.
  Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest -
  For Brutus is an honourable man;
  So are they all, all honourable men -
  Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral.
  He was my friend, faithful and just to me:
  But Brutus says he was ambitious;
  And Brutus is an honourable man.
  He hath brought many captives home to Rome
  Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill:
  Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?
  When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept:
  Ambition should be made of sterner stuff:
  Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
  And Brutus is an honourable man.
  You all did see that on the Lupercal
  I thrice presented him a kingly crown,
  Which he did thrice refuse: was this ambition?
  Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;
  And, sure, he is an honourable man.
  I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,
  But here I am to speak what I do know.
  You all did love him once, not without cause:
  What cause withholds you then, to mourn for him?
  O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,
  And men have lost their reason. Bear with me;
  My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar,
  And I must pause till it come back to me.
• 

  you
  A Dream
  
  
  
  Once a dream did weave a shade
  O'er my Angel-guarded bed,
  That an Emmet lost its way
  Where on grass methought I lay.
  
  Troubled, 'wilder'd, and forlorn,
  Dark, benighted, travel-worn,
  Over many a tangled spray,
  All heart-broken I heard her say:
  
  ``O, my children! do they cry?
  Do they hear their father sigh?
  Now they look abroad to see:
  Now return and weep for me.''
  
  Pitying, I drop'd a tear;
  But I saw a glow-worm near,
  Who replied: ``What wailing wight
  Calls the watchman of the night?
  
  ``I am set to light the ground,
  While the beetle goes his round:
  Follow now the beetle's hum;
  Little wanderer, hie thee home.''
• 

  Indra
  Tyger Tyger. burning bright,
  In the forests of the night;
  What immortal hand or eye.
  Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
  
  In what distant deeps or skies.
  Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
  On what wings dare he aspire?
  What the hand, dare seize the fire?
  
  And what shoulder, & what art,
  Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
  And when thy heart began to beat.
  What dread hand? & what dread feet?
  
  What the hammer? what the chain,
  In what furnace was thy brain?
  What the anvil? what dread grasp.
  Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
  
  When the stars threw down their spears
  And watered heaven with their tears:
  Did he smile His work to see?
  Did he who made the lamb make thee?
  
  Tyger Tyger burning bright,
  In the forests of the night:
  What immortal hand or eye,
  Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
  

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