The Poetical Works of John Keats: With a LifeLittle, Brown. Shepard, Clark and Brown, 1859 - 438 стор. |
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Сторінка xviii
... hand , in his eagerness to prove that Keats was not killed by the article in the Quarterly , is carried too far toward the opposite extreme , and more than hints that he was not even hurt by it . This would have been true of Wordsworth ...
... hand , in his eagerness to prove that Keats was not killed by the article in the Quarterly , is carried too far toward the opposite extreme , and more than hints that he was not even hurt by it . This would have been true of Wordsworth ...
Сторінка xxv
... hand at tragedy , and Mr. Milnes has published among his " Remains , " Otho the Great , and all that was ever written of King Stephen . We think he did unwisely , for a biographer is hardly called upon to show how ill his biographee ...
... hand at tragedy , and Mr. Milnes has published among his " Remains , " Otho the Great , and all that was ever written of King Stephen . We think he did unwisely , for a biographer is hardly called upon to show how ill his biographee ...
Сторінка xxviii
... from her to see her hand- writing would break my heart - Even to hear of her anyhow , to see her name written , would be more than I can bear . My dear Brown , what am I to do ? Where can I look for xxviii THE LIFE OF KEATS .
... from her to see her hand- writing would break my heart - Even to hear of her anyhow , to see her name written , would be more than I can bear . My dear Brown , what am I to do ? Where can I look for xxviii THE LIFE OF KEATS .
Сторінка xxix
... hand in going up the Scalinata . Mr. Severn's Studio is said to have been in the Cancello over the garden gate of the Villa Negroni , pleasantly familiar to all Americans as the Roman home of their countryman Craw- ford . On the 14th ...
... hand in going up the Scalinata . Mr. Severn's Studio is said to have been in the Cancello over the garden gate of the Villa Negroni , pleasantly familiar to all Americans as the Roman home of their countryman Craw- ford . On the 14th ...
Сторінка 10
... hand there swung a vase , milk- white , Of mingled wine , out - sparkling generous light ; And in his left he held a basket full Of all sweet herbs that searching eye could cull : Wild thyme , and valley - lilies whiter still Than 10 ...
... hand there swung a vase , milk- white , Of mingled wine , out - sparkling generous light ; And in his left he held a basket full Of all sweet herbs that searching eye could cull : Wild thyme , and valley - lilies whiter still Than 10 ...
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Adieu Apollo Arethusa art thou Bacchus beauty beneath bliss blue bower breast breath bright Carian CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE cheek chidden clouds Corinth dark death deep delight divine dost doth dream earth Elysium Enceladus Endymion eyes face faint fair fear feel flowers forest gentle golden green grief hair hand happy head heart heaven Hermes Hyperion Keats kiss Lamia leaves light lips lone look lute Lycius lyre melodies moon morning mortal Muse Naiad never night nymph o'er once pain pale pass'd passion pleasant pleasure poet rill ring-dove rose round Saturn Satyrs Scylla seem'd shade sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spake spirit stars stept stood streams sweet tears tell tender thee thine things thou art thou hast thought trees trembling twas voice warm weep whispering wild wind wings wonders young youth
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Сторінка 287 - Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan...
Сторінка 197 - Hyena foemen, and hot-blooded lords, Whose very dogs would execrations howl Against his lineage : not one breast affords Him any mercy, in that mansion foul, Save one old beldame, weak in body and in soul.
Сторінка 288 - 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! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain— To thy high requiem become a sod.
Сторінка 369 - 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 ix - And strength by limping sway disabled, And art made tongue-tied by authority...
Сторінка 302 - To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core ; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel ; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease ; For Summer has o'erbrimmed their clammy cells.
Сторінка 390 - I saw pale kings, and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried— "La Belle Dame sans Merci Hath thee in thrall!
Сторінка 202 - Of fruits and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass, And diamonded with panes of quaint device, Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes, As are the tiger-moth's deep-damask'd wings; And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries, And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings, A shielded scutcheon blush 'd with blood of queens and kings.
Сторінка 418 - Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask Of snow upon the mountains and the moors: — No — yet still steadfast, still unchangeable, Pillow'd upon my fair Love's ripening breast To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest; Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever, — or else swoon to death.
Сторінка 198 - Good Saints! not here, not here; Follow me, child, or else these stones will be thy bier.