The Poetical Works of John KeatsFrederick Warne and Company, 1882 - 282 стор. |
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A. B. FROST adieu Albert art thou Auranthe beauty Beeton's bliss breath bright brow clouds cold Coloured Conrad dark death deep dost doth dream ears earth Emperor Endymion Erminia Ethelbert eyes face faint fair fear feel flowers forest gentle Gersa Glocester Goddess golden Gonfred green grief hair hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hour Hyperion JULES VERNE kiss lady Lamia leaves light lips look look'd Lord Ludolph lute Lycius lyre Margaret Catchpole melody moan moon morning mortal Naiad never night o'er Otho pain pale pass'd poor Prince Queechy rill round Saturn seem'd shade sigh Sigifred silent silver sleep smile soft sorrow soul stars stept stood sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thou hast thought tongue touch'd trees trembling twas vex'd voice warm weep whisper wild wind wings wonder young
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Сторінка 222 - 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 183 - No uttered syllable, or, woe betide ! But to her heart, her heart was voluble, Paining with eloquence her balmy side ; As though a tongueless nightingale should swell Her throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled in her dell.
Сторінка 224 - Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown : Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath Charmed magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
Сторінка 219 - ... commotions shook him, and made flush All the immortal fairness of his limbs : Most like the struggle at the gate of death ; Or liker still to one who should take leave Of pale immortal death, and with a pang As hot as death's is chill, with fierce convulse Die into life : so young Apollo anguish'd ; His very hair, his golden tresses famed Kept undulation round his eager neck.
Сторінка 232 - I set her on my pacing steed, And nothing else saw all day long, For sidelong would she bend, and sing A faery's song.
Сторінка 188 - This is no dream, my bride, my Madeline!" 'Tis dark: the iced gusts still rave and beat: "No dream, alas! alas! and woe is mine! Porphyro will leave me here to fade and pine. — Cruel! what traitor could thee hither bring? I curse not, for my heart is lost in thine, Though thou forsakest a deceived thing; — A dove forlorn and lost with sick unpruned wing.
Сторінка 209 - Or shall the tree be envious of the dove Because it cooeth, and hath snowy wings To wander wherewithal and find its joys? We are such forest-trees, and our fair boughs Have bred forth, not pale solitary doves, But eagles golden-feather'd, who do tower Above us in their beauty, and must reign In right thereof; for 'tis the eternal law That first in beauty should be first in might: Yea, by that law, another race may drive 230 Our conquerors to mourn as we do now.
Сторінка 186 - And now, my love, my seraph fair, awake! Thou art my heaven, and I thine eremite: Open thine eyes, for meek St. Agnes' sake, Or I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth ache.
Сторінка 242 - ON SEEING THE ELGIN MARBLES MY spirit is too weak ; mortality Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep, And each imagined pinnacle and steep Of godlike hardship tells me I must die Like a sick eagle looking at the sky. Yet 'tis a gentle luxury to weep, That I have not the cloudy winds to keep Fresh for the opening of the morning's eye.
Сторінка 181 - Sweet lady, let her pray, and sleep and dream Alone with her good angels, far apart From wicked men like thee. Go, Go ! I deem Thou canst not surely be the same that thou didst seem.