The Letters and Poems of John Keats ...Dodd, Mead, 1883 |
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... moan Upon the midnight hours ; No voice , no lute , no pipe , no incense sweet From chain - swung censer teeming ; No shrine , no grove , no oracle , no heat Of pale - mouth'd prophet dreaming . O brightest ! though too late for antique ...
... moan Upon the midnight hours ; No voice , no lute , no pipe , no incense sweet From chain - swung censer teeming ; No shrine , no grove , no oracle , no heat Of pale - mouth'd prophet dreaming . O brightest ! though too late for antique ...
Сторінка 34
... moan , Spreading her perfect arms upon the air , And on her couch low murmuring , " Where ? O where ? " XXXI . But Selfishness , Love's cousin , held not long Its fiery vigil in her single breast ; She fretted for the golden hour , and ...
... moan , Spreading her perfect arms upon the air , And on her couch low murmuring , " Where ? O where ? " XXXI . But Selfishness , Love's cousin , held not long Its fiery vigil in her single breast ; She fretted for the golden hour , and ...
Сторінка 36
... moan'd a ghostly under - song , Like hoarse night - gusts sepulchral briars among . XXXVII . Its eyes , though wild , were still all dewy bright With love , and kept all phantom fear aloof From the poor girl by magic of their light ...
... moan'd a ghostly under - song , Like hoarse night - gusts sepulchral briars among . XXXVII . Its eyes , though wild , were still all dewy bright With love , and kept all phantom fear aloof From the poor girl by magic of their light ...
Сторінка 40
... d it , and low moan'd . ' Twas love ; cold , -dead indeed , but not dethroned . LI . In anxious secrecy they took it home , And then the prize was all for Isabel : She calm'd its wild hair with a golden comb , 40 ISABELLA .
... d it , and low moan'd . ' Twas love ; cold , -dead indeed , but not dethroned . LI . In anxious secrecy they took it home , And then the prize was all for Isabel : She calm'd its wild hair with a golden comb , 40 ISABELLA .
Сторінка 42
... Moan hither , all ye syllables of woe , From the deep throat of sad Melpomene ! Through bronzed lyre in tragic order go , And touch the strings into a mystery ; Sound mournfully upon the winds and low ; For simple Isabel is soon to be ...
... Moan hither , all ye syllables of woe , From the deep throat of sad Melpomene ! Through bronzed lyre in tragic order go , And touch the strings into a mystery ; Sound mournfully upon the winds and low ; For simple Isabel is soon to be ...
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adieu Albert ALBERT reading Auranthe beauty Bellanaine Bertha breathe bride bright brow censer clouds cold Conrad Corinth dark death deep door doth dream Duke earth Elfinan Emperor Enter Erminia Ethelbert Exeunt Exit eyes face faery fair fair lady Farewell fear feet flowers gentle Gersa Glocester gold golden Gonfred hand happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven Hermes hour Hungarian hush Huzza Hyperion Imaus JOHN KEATS Kaims king kiss kiss'd Knight lady Lamia light lips look look'd lord Ludolph Lycius moan morn mortal noble nymph o'er Otho pain pale pass'd pity poor Prince Princess return'd Saturn SCENE seem'd shade Sigifred silent Sire sleep soft song sorrow soul Spirit stars Stephen sweet sword tears tell thee thine thou art thought tongue touch'd toy'd trembling turn'd twas voice water-mint weep whisper wine wings words