The Letters and Poems of John Keats, Томи 2 – 3Dodd, Mead, 1883 |
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Сторінка 3
... hours ; No voice , no lute , no pipe , no incense sweet From chain - swung censer teeming ; No shrine , no grove , no oracle , no heat Of pale - mouth'd prophet dreaming . O brightest though too late for antique vows , Too , too late ...
... hours ; No voice , no lute , no pipe , no incense sweet From chain - swung censer teeming ; No shrine , no grove , no oracle , no heat Of pale - mouth'd prophet dreaming . O brightest though too late for antique vows , Too , too late ...
Сторінка 5
... hours by hours . Where are the songs of Spring ? Ay , where are they ? Think not of them , thou hast thy music too , While barred clouds bloom the soft - dying day , And touch the stubble - plains with rosy hue ; Then in a wailful choir ...
... hours by hours . Where are the songs of Spring ? Ay , where are they ? Think not of them , thou hast thy music too , While barred clouds bloom the soft - dying day , And touch the stubble - plains with rosy hue ; Then in a wailful choir ...
Сторінка 8
... hours . He then reached the house with some scraps of paper in his hand , which he soon put together in the form of this ode . ዉ Y heart aches , and a drowsy numbness pains My sense , as though of hemlock I had drunk , Or emptied some ...
... hours . He then reached the house with some scraps of paper in his hand , which he soon put together in the form of this ode . ዉ Y heart aches , and a drowsy numbness pains My sense , as though of hemlock I had drunk , Or emptied some ...
Сторінка 13
... hour ; The blissful cloud of summer - indolence Benumb'd my eyes ; my pulse grew less and less ; Pain had no sting , and pleasure's wreath no flower : O , why did ye not melt , and leave my sense Unhaunted quite of all but - nothingness ...
... hour ; The blissful cloud of summer - indolence Benumb'd my eyes ; my pulse grew less and less ; Pain had no sting , and pleasure's wreath no flower : O , why did ye not melt , and leave my sense Unhaunted quite of all but - nothingness ...
Сторінка 21
... hour ; Let none profane my Holy See of love , Or with a rude hand break The sacramental cake : Let none else touch the just new - budded flower If not - may my eyes close , Love ! on their last repose . W ΤΟ HAT can I do to drive away ...
... hour ; Let none profane my Holy See of love , Or with a rude hand break The sacramental cake : Let none else touch the just new - budded flower If not - may my eyes close , Love ! on their last repose . W ΤΟ HAT can I do to drive away ...
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abbot aching adieu ALBERT reading arms Auranthe beauty Bertha breath bright brow Captain Castle censer CHARLES BROWN clouds Conrad Corinth dark death deep door doth dream Duke ears earth Emperor Empress Maud Enceladus Enter ALBERT Enter GERSA Enter LUDOLPH Erminia Ethelbert Exeunt Exit eyes face fair fair lady Farewell father fear feet flowers fool gentle Glocester golden Gonfred hand happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven Henry the Fowler honour hour Hungarian Hyperion Imaus King lady Lamia lips look look'd lord Lycius moan morn mortal noble o'er Otho pain pale pass'd Physician pity poor Prince prythee Saturn SCENE seem'd shade Sigifred silent sire sleep soft sorrow soul spirit stars Stephen sweet sword tears tell thee thine thou art thought to-day tongue touch'd trembling turn'd twas vext voice weep whisper wine wings words
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Сторінка 10 - Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain...
Сторінка 91 - ST. AGNES' Eve — Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass, And silent was the flock in woolly fold: Numb were the Beadsman's fingers, while he told His rosary, and while his frosted breath, Like pious incense from a censer old, Seem'd taking flight for heaven, without a death, Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith.
Сторінка 5 - Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers...
Сторінка 8 - 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 9 - Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan...
Сторінка 100 - Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast, As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon; Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, And on her silver cross soft amethyst, And on her hair a glory, like a saint: She seem'da splendid angel, newly drest, Save wings, for heaven: Porphyro grew faint: She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.
Сторінка 7 - By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine; Make not your rosary of yew-berries, Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl A partner in your sorrow's mysteries; For shade to shade will come too drowsily, And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.
Сторінка 102 - And now, my love, my seraph fair, awake ! "Thou art my heaven, and I thine eremite: " Open thine eyes, for meek St. Agnes' sake, "Or I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth ache.
Сторінка 105 - She hurried at his words, beset with fears For there were sleeping dragons all around, At glaring watch, perhaps, with ready spears — Down the wide stairs a darkling way they found, In all the house was heard no human sound. A...
Сторінка 103 - The blisses of her dream so pure and deep. At which fair Madeline began to weep, And moan forth witless words with many a sigh ; While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep ; Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye, Fearing to move or speak, she look'd so dreamingly.