The Poetical Works of John KeatsE. H. Butler, 1855 - 350 стор. |
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Сторінка 67
... pale , and with an awed face , Among his brothers of the mountain chase . In midst of all , the venerable priest Eyed them with joy from greatest to the least , And , after lifting up his aged hands , Thus spake he : " Men of Latmos ...
... pale , and with an awed face , Among his brothers of the mountain chase . In midst of all , the venerable priest Eyed them with joy from greatest to the least , And , after lifting up his aged hands , Thus spake he : " Men of Latmos ...
Сторінка 76
... more high perplexing in thy face ! " Endymion looked at her , and pressed her hand , And said , " Art thou so pale , who wast so bland And merry in our meadows ? How is this ? ENDYMION . Tell me thine ailment : tell me all 76 ENDYMION .
... more high perplexing in thy face ! " Endymion looked at her , and pressed her hand , And said , " Art thou so pale , who wast so bland And merry in our meadows ? How is this ? ENDYMION . Tell me thine ailment : tell me all 76 ENDYMION .
Сторінка 110
... pale , With turrets crowned . Four maned lions hale The sluggish wheels ; solemn their toothed maws , Their surly eyes brow - hidden , heavy paws Uplifted drowsily , and nervy tails Cowering their tawny brushes . Silent sails This ...
... pale , With turrets crowned . Four maned lions hale The sluggish wheels ; solemn their toothed maws , Their surly eyes brow - hidden , heavy paws Uplifted drowsily , and nervy tails Cowering their tawny brushes . Silent sails This ...
Сторінка 124
... pale For one whose cheek is pale : thou dost bewail His tears who weeps for thee ! Where dost thou sigh ? Ah ! surely that light peeps from Vesper's eye , Or , what a thing is love ! ' Tis She , but lo ! How changed , how full of ache ...
... pale For one whose cheek is pale : thou dost bewail His tears who weeps for thee ! Where dost thou sigh ? Ah ! surely that light peeps from Vesper's eye , Or , what a thing is love ! ' Tis She , but lo ! How changed , how full of ache ...
Сторінка 139
... pale laugh , and curse . Ha ha ! Sir Dainty ! there must be a nurse Made of rose - leaves and thistle - down , express , To cradle thee , my sweet , and lull thee : yes , I am too flinty - hard for thy nice touch : My tenderest squeeze ...
... pale laugh , and curse . Ha ha ! Sir Dainty ! there must be a nurse Made of rose - leaves and thistle - down , express , To cradle thee , my sweet , and lull thee : yes , I am too flinty - hard for thy nice touch : My tenderest squeeze ...
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beauty beneath bliss bound in Morocco bower breast breath bright Carian CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE clouds Corinth dark death delight dost doth dream ears earth Elegantly Endymion Engravings eyes face faint fair fancy fear feel flowers forest gentle gilt and gilt gilt edges Goddess golden green grief hand happy hast heart heaven Hyperion JOHN KEATS Keats kiss Lamia leaves Leigh Hunt light lips look lute Lycius lyre MARTIN FARQUHAR TUPPER melodies morning Morocco Antique mortal Muse muslin Naiad never night nymph o'er pain pale passion pleasant pleasure poet RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES rill rose round Saturn Scylla shade sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spirit stars stept stood streams sweet tears tell tender thee thine things thou art thought trees trembling Turkey Morocco twas voice weep whispering wild wind wings wonders young youth
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Сторінка 309 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too...
Сторінка 297 - 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 299 - Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod.
Сторінка 347 - 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 305 - 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.