The Letters and Poems of John Keats, Том 3 |
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Сторінка 2
The following poem , the last I have written , is the first and only one with which I
have taken even moderate pains . I have , for the most part , dashed off my lines
in a hurry ; this one I have done leisurely : I think it reads the more richly for it ,
and ...
The following poem , the last I have written , is the first and only one with which I
have taken even moderate pains . I have , for the most part , dashed off my lines
in a hurry ; this one I have done leisurely : I think it reads the more richly for it ,
and ...
Сторінка 3
... Thy shrine , thy grove , thy oracle , thy heat Of pale - mouth ' d prophet
dreaming . Yes , I will be thy priest , and build a fane In some untrodden region of
my mind , Where branched thoughts , new - grown with pleasant pain TO
PSYCHE .
... Thy shrine , thy grove , thy oracle , thy heat Of pale - mouth ' d prophet
dreaming . Yes , I will be thy priest , and build a fane In some untrodden region of
my mind , Where branched thoughts , new - grown with pleasant pain TO
PSYCHE .
Сторінка 4
pain , Instead of pines shall murmur in the 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 ...
pain , Instead of pines shall murmur in the 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 ...
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Y heart aches , and a drowsy numbness I 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 ...
Y heart aches , and a drowsy numbness I 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 ...
Сторінка 10
... To cease upon the midnight with no pain , While thou art pouring forth thy soul
abroad In such an ecstasy ! Still wouldst thou sing , and I have ears in vainTo thy
high requiem become a sod . Thou wast not born for death , immortal Bird !
... To cease upon the midnight with no pain , While thou art pouring forth thy soul
abroad In such an ecstasy ! Still wouldst thou sing , and I have ears in vainTo thy
high requiem become a sod . Thou wast not born for death , immortal Bird !
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