The poetical works of John Keats, ed. by W.B. Scott, Випуск 639George Routledge and sons, the Broadway, Ludgate., 1873 - 351 стор. |
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Сторінка viii
... warm hand to his memory . Times arrive , under the hallowing influences of thought and trouble , when genius is as sure to acknowledge genius , as it is to feel its own wants , and to be willing to share its glory . " It is very ...
... warm hand to his memory . Times arrive , under the hallowing influences of thought and trouble , when genius is as sure to acknowledge genius , as it is to feel its own wants , and to be willing to share its glory . " It is very ...
Сторінка 5
... warm their chilliest bubbles in the grass ; Man's voice was on the mountains ; and the mass Of nature's lives and wonders pulsed tenfold , To feel this sun - rise and its glories old . Now while the silent workings of the dawn Were ...
... warm their chilliest bubbles in the grass ; Man's voice was on the mountains ; and the mass Of nature's lives and wonders pulsed tenfold , To feel this sun - rise and its glories old . Now while the silent workings of the dawn Were ...
Сторінка 33
... Warm and serene , but yet with moisten'd eyes In pity of the shatter'd infant buds , - That time thou didst adorn , with amber studs , My hunting - cap , because I laughed and smiled , Chatted with thee , and many days exiled All ...
... Warm and serene , but yet with moisten'd eyes In pity of the shatter'd infant buds , - That time thou didst adorn , with amber studs , My hunting - cap , because I laughed and smiled , Chatted with thee , and many days exiled All ...
Сторінка 34
... warm kisses , or light noise Of thy combing hand , the while it travelling cloys And trembles through my labyrinthine hair . ' At that oppress'd , I hurried in . Ah ! where Are those swift moments ? Whither are they fled ? 34 Endymion .
... warm kisses , or light noise Of thy combing hand , the while it travelling cloys And trembles through my labyrinthine hair . ' At that oppress'd , I hurried in . Ah ! where Are those swift moments ? Whither are they fled ? 34 Endymion .
Сторінка 52
... warm firstling , to renew Embower'd sports in Cytherea's isle . Look , how those winged listeners all this while Stand anxious : see ! behold ! " - This clamant word Broke through the careful silence : for they heard A rustling noise of ...
... warm firstling , to renew Embower'd sports in Cytherea's isle . Look , how those winged listeners all this while Stand anxious : see ! behold ! " - This clamant word Broke through the careful silence : for they heard A rustling noise of ...
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arms beauty beneath bliss blue breast breath bright clear clouds cold comes cool dark death deep delight doth dream earth Endymion eyes face fair fear feel feet felt flowers forest friends gentle give golden gone green hair hand happy hast head hear heard heart heaven hour Keats keep kiss leaves light lips live look morning mortal never night o'er once pain pale pass pleasant pleasure poet poor rest rose round seen shade side sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft song soon sorrow soul sound speak spirit stars steps stood strange streams sure sweet tears tell tender thee thine things thou thought took trees trembling twas voice warm wide wild wind wings wonder young youth
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Сторінка 318 - 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 273 - Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hillside; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: — Do I wake or sleep?
Сторінка 272 - 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, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy!
Сторінка 279 - And in the midst of this wide quietness A rosy sanctuary will I dress With the wreathed trellis of a working brain, With buds, and bells, and stars without a name, With all the gardener Fancy e'er could feign, Who breeding flowers, will never breed the same: And there shall be for thee all soft delight That shadowy thought can win, A bright torch, and a casement ope at night, To let the warm Love in ! FANCY.
Сторінка 275 - Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss. Though winning near the goal — yet do not grieve: She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss; For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! 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!
Сторінка 269 - 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 321 - To one who has been long in city pent, 'Tis very sweet to look into the fair And open face of heaven, — to breathe a prayer Full in the smile of the blue firmament.
Сторінка 191 - As, supperless to bed they must retire, And couch supine their beauties, lily white; Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire.
Сторінка 2 - Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake, Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms: And such too is the grandeur of the dooms We have imagined for the mighty dead; All lovely tales that we have heard or read: An endless fountain of immortal drink, Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.
Сторінка 204 - And they are gone: ay, ages long ago These lovers fled away into the storm. That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe, And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form Of witch, and demon, and large coffinworm. Were long be-nightmar'd. Angela the old Died palsy-twitch'd, with meagre face deform ; The Beadsman, after thousand aves told, For aye unsought for slept among his ashes cold.