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arms beauty beneath blue breath bright clear clouds cold cool dark death deep delight doth dream ears earth Endymion Engravings eyes face fair fancy fear feel felt flowers forest friends gentle gilt give golden gone green hair hand happy hast head hear heard heart heaven hour human Illustrated Keats keep kiss leaves light lips live look morning Morocco mortal never night o'er once pain pale passed passion pleasant pleasure poet poor rest rose round seemed seen shade side sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft song soon sorrow soul sounds spirit stars stood strange stream sweet tears tell tender thee thine things thou thought touch trees Turkey turn twas voice whispering wide wild wind wings wonders young youth
Сторінка 307 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too...
Сторінка 295 - My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: "Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness, — That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
Сторінка 297 - Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod.
Сторінка 345 - To one who has been long in city pent, 'Tis very sweet to look into the fair And open face of heaven, — to breathe a prayer Full in the smile of the blue firmament.
Сторінка 233 - But to her heart, her heart was voluble, Paining with eloquence her balmy side ; As though a tongueless nightingale should swell Her throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled in her dell.
Сторінка 303 - Shaded hyacinth, alway Sapphire queen of the mid-May ; And every leaf, and every flower Pearled with the self-same shower. Thou shalt see the field-mouse peep Meagre from its celled sleep : And the snake, all winter-thin, Cast on sunny bank its skin ; Freckled nest-eggs thou shalt see Hatching in the hawthorn -tree. When the hen-bird's wing doth rest Quiet on her mossy nest ; Then the hurry and alarm When the bee-hive casts its swarm ; Acorns ripe down-pattering While the autumn breezes sing.
Сторінка 239 - Let us away, my love, with happy speed ; There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see, — Drowned all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead : Awake ! arise ! my love, and fearless be, For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee.
Сторінка 37 - The Genius of Poetry must work out its own salvation in a man. It cannot be matured by law and precept, but by sensation and watchfulness in itself. That which is creative must create itself.
Сторінка 228 - Eve, Young virgins might have visions of delight, And soft adorings from their loves receive Upon the honey'd middle of the night, If ceremonies due they did aright; As, supperless to bed they must retire, And couch supine their beauties, lily white; Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire.
Сторінка 229 - Buttress'd from moonlight, stands he, and implores All saints to give him sight of Madeline, But for one moment in the tedious hours, That he might gaze and worship all unseen ; Perchance speak, kneel, touch, kiss — in sooth such things have been.