The poetical works of John Keats. With mem., notes &c, Випуск 7991874 |
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... rose , And list to the tale of the wreath , and the chain , Till its echoes depart ; then I sink to repose . Adieu , valiant Eric ! with joy thou art crowned ; Full many the glories that brighten thy youth , I too have my blisses ...
... rose , And list to the tale of the wreath , and the chain , Till its echoes depart ; then I sink to repose . Adieu , valiant Eric ! with joy thou art crowned ; Full many the glories that brighten thy youth , I too have my blisses ...
Сторінка 23
... rose - tree stem ! Haply it was the workings of its pride , In strife to throw upon the shore a gem Outvieing all the buds in Flora's diadem . * * * * WOMAN ! when I behold thee flippant , vain , Inconstant , childish , proud , and full ...
... rose - tree stem ! Haply it was the workings of its pride , In strife to throw upon the shore a gem Outvieing all the buds in Flora's diadem . * * * * WOMAN ! when I behold thee flippant , vain , Inconstant , childish , proud , and full ...
Сторінка 29
... rose . All that's revealed from that far seat of blisses , Is , the clear fountains ' interchanging kisses , As gracefully descending , light and thin , Like silver streaks across a dolphin's fin , When he upswimmeth from the coral ...
... rose . All that's revealed from that far seat of blisses , Is , the clear fountains ' interchanging kisses , As gracefully descending , light and thin , Like silver streaks across a dolphin's fin , When he upswimmeth from the coral ...
Сторінка 30
... rose , sighing , Are emblems true of hapless lovers dying : Between her breasts , that never yet felt trouble , A bunch of violets full blown , and double , Serenely sleep : -she from a casket takes A little book , —and then a joy ...
... rose , sighing , Are emblems true of hapless lovers dying : Between her breasts , that never yet felt trouble , A bunch of violets full blown , and double , Serenely sleep : -she from a casket takes A little book , —and then a joy ...
Сторінка 39
... rose ; ' twas the first that threw Its sweets upon the summer : graceful it grew As is the wand that queen Titania wields . And , as I feasted on its fragrancy , I thought the garden - rose it far excelled : But when , O Wells ! thy ...
... rose ; ' twas the first that threw Its sweets upon the summer : graceful it grew As is the wand that queen Titania wields . And , as I feasted on its fragrancy , I thought the garden - rose it far excelled : But when , O Wells ! thy ...
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The Poetical Works of John Keats. with Mem., Notes &C John Keats Попередній перегляд недоступний - 2015 |
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arms beauty beneath bliss blue breast breath bright clear close clouds cold cool dark death deep delight divine doth dream earth Endymion eyes face fair fear feel feet felt flowers forest gentle give golden gone green hair hand happy hast head hear heard heart heaven hour keep kiss leaves light lips live look morning mortal never night o'er once pain pale pass pleasant pleasure poet poor rest rose round seemed seen shade side sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft song soon sorrow soul sound spirit stars stood strange stream sure sweet tears tell tender thee thine things thou thought took touch trees turn twas voice warm whisper wide wild wind wings wonders young youth
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Сторінка 275 - And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'er-brimmed their clammy cells — Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Сторінка 262 - Away ! away ! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards : Already with thee ! tender is the night, And haply the queen-moon is on her throne, Clustered around by all her starry Fays ; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
Сторінка 40 - Homer ruled as his demesne ; Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold : Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He...
Сторінка 264 - Ah, happy, happy boughs ! that cannot shed Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; And, happy melodist, unwearied, For ever piping songs for ever new; More happy love! more happy, happy love! For ever warm and still to be enjoyed, For ever panting, and for ever young; All breathing human passion far above, That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloyed, A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.
Сторінка 261 - Tasting of Flora and the country green, Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth. O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth ; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim : III.
Сторінка 269 - 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 xvi - And flowering weeds, and fragrant copses dress The bones of Desolation's nakedness Pass, till the Spirit of the spot shall lead Thy footsteps to a slope of green access Where, like an infant's smile, over the dead, 440 A light of laughing flowers along the grass is spread.
Сторінка 277 - Melancholy has her sovran shrine. Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine; His soul shall taste the sadness of her might, And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
Сторінка 224 - Hyena foemen, and hot-blooded lords, Whose very dogs would execrations howl Against his lineage: not one breast affords Him any mercy, in that mansion foul, Save one old beldame, weak in body and in soul.
Сторінка 223 - 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.