The Letters and Poems of John Keats, Томи 2 – 3Dodd, Mead, 1883 |
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... wind : Far , far around shall those dark - cluster'd trees Fledge the wild - ridged mountains steep by steep ; And there by zephyrs , streams , and birds , and bees , The moss - lain Dryads shall be lull'd to sleep ; And in the midst of ...
... wind : Far , far around shall those dark - cluster'd trees Fledge the wild - ridged mountains steep by steep ; And there by zephyrs , streams , and birds , and bees , The moss - lain Dryads shall be lull'd to sleep ; And in the midst of ...
Сторінка 5
... 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 ; And sometime like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook ; Or ...
... 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 ; And sometime like a gleaner thou dost keep Steady thy laden head across a brook ; Or ...
Сторінка 17
... wind ever nipt , So shelter'd by the mighty pile . Bertha arose , and read awhile , With forehead ' gainst the window - pane . Again she tried , and then again , Until the dusk eve left her dark Upon the legend of St. Mark . From ...
... wind ever nipt , So shelter'd by the mighty pile . Bertha arose , and read awhile , With forehead ' gainst the window - pane . Again she tried , and then again , Until the dusk eve left her dark Upon the legend of St. Mark . From ...
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... Where the heart beats : confess - ' tis nothing new Must not a woman be A feather on the sea , Sway'd to and fro by every wind and tide ? Of as uncertain speed As blow - ball from the mead ? I know it — and to know it is despair 20 ODES ..
... Where the heart beats : confess - ' tis nothing new Must not a woman be A feather on the sea , Sway'd to and fro by every wind and tide ? Of as uncertain speed As blow - ball from the mead ? I know it — and to know it is despair 20 ODES ..
Сторінка 22
... winds , all zephyrless , hold scourging rods , Iced in the great lakes , to afflict mankind ; Whose rank - grown forests , frosted , black , and blind , Would fright a Dryad ; whose harsh herbaged meads Make lean and lank the starv'd ox ...
... winds , all zephyrless , hold scourging rods , Iced in the great lakes , to afflict mankind ; Whose rank - grown forests , frosted , black , and blind , Would fright a Dryad ; whose harsh herbaged meads Make lean and lank the starv'd ox ...
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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.