The Letters and Poems of John Keats, Том 3 |
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... 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 by a
cider - press , with patient look , Thou watchest the last oozings , hours by hours .
... 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 by a
cider - press , with patient look , Thou watchest the last oozings , hours by hours .
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Ye cannot raise My head cool - bedded in the flowery grass ; For I would not be
dieted with praise , A pet - lamb in a sentimental farce ! Fade softly from my eyes ,
and be once more In masque - like figures on the dreamy urn ; Farewell !
Ye cannot raise My head cool - bedded in the flowery grass ; For I would not be
dieted with praise , A pet - lamb in a sentimental farce ! Fade softly from my eyes ,
and be once more In masque - like figures on the dreamy urn ; Farewell !
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XXVII , So the two brothers and their murder ' d man Rode past fair Florence , to
where Arno ' s stream Gurgles through straighten ' d banks , and still doth fan
Itself with dancing bulrush , and the bream Keeps head against the freshets .
XXVII , So the two brothers and their murder ' d man Rode past fair Florence , to
where Arno ' s stream Gurgles through straighten ' d banks , and still doth fan
Itself with dancing bulrush , and the bream Keeps head against the freshets .
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Saying , moreover , “ Isabel , my sweet ! Red whortle - berries droop above my
head , And a large flint - stone weighs upon my feet ; Around me beeches and
high chestnuts shed Their leaves and prickly nuts ; a sheep - fold bleat Comes ...
Saying , moreover , “ Isabel , my sweet ! Red whortle - berries droop above my
head , And a large flint - stone weighs upon my feet ; Around me beeches and
high chestnuts shed Their leaves and prickly nuts ; a sheep - fold bleat Comes ...
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... evening came , And they had found Lorenzo ' s earthy bed ; The flint was there
, the berries at his head . XLV . Who hath not loiter ' d in a ISABELLA.
... evening came , And they had found Lorenzo ' s earthy bed ; The flint was there
, the berries at his head . XLV . Who hath not loiter ' d in a ISABELLA.
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