Der sensualismus bei John Keats ...Hofund universitätsbuchdr. C.A. Wagner, 1903 - 70 стор. |
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Сторінка 186
... heißt es z . B .: There crept A little noiseless noise among the leaves , Born of the very sigh that silence heaves . Wie unnachahmlich ist die physiologische Stimmung des Schweigens in der Natur , des leisen noiseless noise ...
... heißt es z . B .: There crept A little noiseless noise among the leaves , Born of the very sigh that silence heaves . Wie unnachahmlich ist die physiologische Stimmung des Schweigens in der Natur , des leisen noiseless noise ...
Сторінка 189
... heißt es in Isabella LII : Then in a silken scarf , - sweet with the dews Of precious flowers plucked in Araby , And divine liquids come with odorous ooze Through the cold serpent - pipe refreshfully , - She wrapp'd it up und ähnlich in ...
... heißt es in Isabella LII : Then in a silken scarf , - sweet with the dews Of precious flowers plucked in Araby , And divine liquids come with odorous ooze Through the cold serpent - pipe refreshfully , - She wrapp'd it up und ähnlich in ...
Сторінка 193
... heißt , er sei More full of visions than a high romance . Wie wird das Traumhafte zur Realität , ja , zu einer wie in beängstigenden Träumen erdrückenden , unentrinn- baren Gegenständlichkeit in den Erzählungen Lamia , Isabella , The ...
... heißt , er sei More full of visions than a high romance . Wie wird das Traumhafte zur Realität , ja , zu einer wie in beängstigenden Träumen erdrückenden , unentrinn- baren Gegenständlichkeit in den Erzählungen Lamia , Isabella , The ...
Сторінка 208
... heißt es : Mrs. Brawne who took Brown's house for the Summer still resides in Hampstead she is a very - 29 - nice woman and her daughter senior is I think beautiful and elegant , graceful , silly , fashionable and strange - we have a ...
... heißt es : Mrs. Brawne who took Brown's house for the Summer still resides in Hampstead she is a very - 29 - nice woman and her daughter senior is I think beautiful and elegant , graceful , silly , fashionable and strange - we have a ...
Сторінка 217
... heißt es : ' Tis the pest Of love , that fairest joys give most unrest ; That things of delicate and tenderest worth Are swallowed up and made a seared dearth , By one consuming flame : it doth immerse And suffocate true blessings in a ...
... heißt es : ' Tis the pest Of love , that fairest joys give most unrest ; That things of delicate and tenderest worth Are swallowed up and made a seared dearth , By one consuming flame : it doth immerse And suffocate true blessings in a ...
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Atmo beauty Beiträge zur neueren Bild Boccaccio Brief bright Brüder Byron cloud cold Complete Works deep delight Dichter Dichtung dream Endymion englischen Epistel erst Eve of St eyes Fanny Brawne feel feeling felt flowers Forman fühlen Gedanken Gedicht Gefühl give gleichsam glow great gust heard heart heißt human Hyperion Intensität Isabella James Russell Lowell JOHN KEATS Kean Keats Keatsschen know körperlich Lamia Laon läßt Leben Leidenschaft Leigh Hunt less Library Edition lich Liebe life light lips little Lorenzo love Lycius made make Matthew Arnold mean Melancholy Miss Brawne muß Natur neueren Literaturgeschichte Novalis once pain physiologische pleasure poet poetry Porphyro power Prelude round sake Schilderung schließlich Schmerz Schönheit schwach sense Sensualismus shade shape Shelley sight silence Sinne sinnliche Empfindung sleep soft Sonett soul Stärke Stimmung stimmungsvollen stream sweet things think thought Traum Troas unserer voice Vorstellung warm weiß Wesens whole wind wings woman Wordsworth world worth Zustand
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Сторінка 188 - O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim...
Сторінка 183 - THERE lies a vale in Ida, lovelier Than all the valleys of Ionian hills. The swimming vapour slopes athwart the glen, Puts forth an arm, and creeps from pine to pine, And loiters, slowly drawn. On either hand The lawns and meadow-ledges midway down Hang rich in flowers, and far below them roars The long brook falling thro' the clov'n ravine In cataract after cataract to the sea.
Сторінка 195 - Or wait the amen, ere thy poppy throws Around my bed its lulling charities. Then save me, or the passed day will shine Upon my pillow, breeding many woes, — Save me from curious Conscience, that still lords Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole; Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul.
Сторінка 221 - While at our feet, the voice of crystal bubbles Charms us at once away from all our troubles: So that we feel uplifted from the world, Walking upon the white clouds wreath'd and curl'd.
Сторінка 183 - Still as the silence round about his lair ; Forest on forest hung about his head Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there, Not so much life as on a summer's day Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass, But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest. A stream went voiceless by, still deadened more By reason of his fallen divinity Spreading a shade : the Naiad 'mid her reeds Press'd her cold finger closer to her lips.
Сторінка 190 - From Nature and her overflowing soul, I had received so much, that all my thoughts Were steeped in feeling ; I was only then Contented, when with bliss ineffable I felt the sentiment of Being spread O'er all that moves and all that seemeth still...
Сторінка 212 - O! let me have thee whole,- — all — all — be mine! That shape, that fairness, that sweet minor zest Of love, your kiss, — those hands, those eyes divine, That warm, white, lucent, million-pleasured breast, — Yourself — your soul — in pity give me all, Withhold no atom's atom or I die, Or living on perhaps, your wretched thrall, Forget, in the mist of idle misery, Life's purposes, — the palate of my mind Losing its gust, and my ambition blind!
Сторінка 221 - Fold their beams round the hearts of those that love, These twine their tendrils with the wedded boughs Uniting their close union ; the woven leaves Make net-work of the dark blue light of day, And the night's noontide clearness, mutable As shapes in the weird clouds. Soft mossy lawns Beneath these canopies extend their swells, Fragrant with perfumed herbs, and eyed with blooms Minute, yet beautiful.
Сторінка 183 - Saturn, quiet as a stone, Still as the silence round about his lair; Forest on forest hung about his head Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there, Not so much life as on a summer's day Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass, But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
Сторінка 194 - Those green-robed senators of mighty woods, Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars, Dream, and so dream all night without a stir, Save from one gradual solitary gust Which comes upon the silence, and dies off, As if the ebbing air had but one wave...