The Letters and Poems of John Keats, Том 3 |
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... wrung By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear , And pardon that thy secrets should be sung , Even into thine own soft - couched ear : Surely I dreamt to - day , or did I see The winged Psyche with awaken'd eyes ?
... wrung By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear , And pardon that thy secrets should be sung , Even into thine own soft - couched ear : Surely I dreamt to - day , or did I see The winged Psyche with awaken'd eyes ?
Сторінка 3
At tender eye - dawn of aurorean love : The winged boy I knew ; But who wast thou , O happy , happy dove ? His Psyche true ! O latest - born and loveliest vision far Of all Olympus ' faded hierarchy ! Fairer than Phoebe's sapphire ...
At tender eye - dawn of aurorean love : The winged boy I knew ; But who wast thou , O happy , happy dove ? His Psyche true ! O latest - born and loveliest vision far Of all Olympus ' faded hierarchy ! Fairer than Phoebe's sapphire ...
Сторінка 7
... Or on the rainbow of the salt sand - wave , Or on the wealth of globed peonies ; Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows , Emprison her soft hand , and let her rave , And feed deep , deep upon her peerless eyes .
... Or on the rainbow of the salt sand - wave , Or on the wealth of globed peonies ; Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows , Emprison her soft hand , and let her rave , And feed deep , deep upon her peerless eyes .
Сторінка 9
... Where youth grows pale , and spectre - thin , and dies ; Where but to think is to be full of sorrow And leaden - eyed despairs ; Where beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes , Or new Love pine at them beyond to - morrow .
... Where youth grows pale , and spectre - thin , and dies ; Where but to think is to be full of sorrow And leaden - eyed despairs ; Where beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes , Or new Love pine at them beyond to - morrow .
Сторінка 13
Ripe was the drowsy 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 ...
Ripe was the drowsy 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 ...
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| Назва | The Letters and Poems of John Keats, Том 3 The Letters and Poems of John Keats, John Gilmer Speed |
| Автор | John Keats |
| Редактор | John Gilmer Speed |
| Видавець | Dodd, Mead, 1883 |
| Оригінал із | Прінстонський університет |
| Оцифровано | 5 груд. 2008 |
| Експортувати бібліографічний опис | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |