The Poetical Works of John KeatsWiley & Putnam, 1847 - 256 стор. |
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Сторінка 9
... melody of bedded reeds- In desolate places , where dank moisture breeds The pipy hemlock to strange overgrowth , Bethinking thee , how melancholy loath Thou wast to lose fair Syrinx - do thou now , By thy love's milky brow ! By all the ...
... melody of bedded reeds- In desolate places , where dank moisture breeds The pipy hemlock to strange overgrowth , Bethinking thee , how melancholy loath Thou wast to lose fair Syrinx - do thou now , By thy love's milky brow ! By all the ...
Сторінка 39
... melody , in the Carian's ear ; First heaven , then hell , and then forgotten clear , Vanish'd in elemental passion . And down some swart abysm he had gone , Had not a heavenly guide benignant led To where thick myrtle branches ...
... melody , in the Carian's ear ; First heaven , then hell , and then forgotten clear , Vanish'd in elemental passion . And down some swart abysm he had gone , Had not a heavenly guide benignant led To where thick myrtle branches ...
Сторінка 47
... melodies upon a sandy plain , Without an echo ? Then shall I be left So sad , so melancholy , so bereft ! Yet still I feel immortal ! O my love , My breath of life , where art thou ? High above , Dancing before the morning gates of ...
... melodies upon a sandy plain , Without an echo ? Then shall I be left So sad , so melancholy , so bereft ! Yet still I feel immortal ! O my love , My breath of life , where art thou ? High above , Dancing before the morning gates of ...
Сторінка 53
... ! what is it sings His dream away ? What melodies are these ? They sound as through the whispering of trees , Not native in such barren vaults . Give ear ! " O Arethusa , peerless nymph ! why fear Such ENDYMION . $ 3.
... ! what is it sings His dream away ? What melodies are these ? They sound as through the whispering of trees , Not native in such barren vaults . Give ear ! " O Arethusa , peerless nymph ! why fear Such ENDYMION . $ 3.
Сторінка 60
... melody was like a passing spright If it went not to solemnise thy reign . Yes , in my boyhood , every joy and pain By thee were fashion'd to the self - same end And as I grew in years , still didst thou blend With all my ardours : thou ...
... melody was like a passing spright If it went not to solemnise thy reign . Yes , in my boyhood , every joy and pain By thee were fashion'd to the self - same end And as I grew in years , still didst thou blend With all my ardours : thou ...
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adieu Apollo Art thou Bacchus beauty beneath bliss blue bower breast breath bright Carian clouds cool Corinth dark deep delight divine dost doth dream earth EDWARD MOXON Elysium Enceladus Endymion eyes face faint fair fear feel flowers forest gentle Goddess golden green grief hair hand happy head heart heaven hour Hyperion immortal JOHN KEATS kiss Lamia leaves LEIGH HUNT light lips lone lute Lycius lyre melodies morning mortal Muse Naiad never night nymph o'er pain pale pass'd PHILIP VAN ARTEVELDE pinions pleasant pleasure rill rose round Saturn Scylla seem'd shade sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spake spirit stars stept stood strange streams sweet tears tell tender thee thine things thou art thou hast thought trees trembling twas voice weep whence whispering wild wind wings wonders young youth
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Сторінка 123 - Do not all charms fly At the mere touch of cold philosophy? There was an awful rainbow once in heaven: We know her woof, her texture; she is given In the dull catalogue of common things. Philosophy will clip an Angel's wings, Conquer all mysteries by rule and line, Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine— Unweave a rainbow, as it erewhile made The tender-person'd Lamia melt into a shade.
Сторінка 1 - A THING of beauty is a joy for ever : Its loveliness increases ; it will never Pass into nothingness ; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Сторінка 1 - Made for our searching : yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon, Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon For simple sheep ; and such are daffodils With the green world they live in...
Сторінка 202 - 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! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain To thy high requiem become a sod.
Сторінка 213 - I have heard that on a day Mine host's sign-board flew away, Nobody knew whither, till An astrologer's old quill To a sheepskin gave the story,— Said he saw you in your glory, Underneath a new old-sign Sipping beverage divine, And pledging with contented smack The Mermaid in the Zodiac.
Сторінка 211 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, — While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft ; And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
Сторінка 202 - 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 211 - Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind ; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers...
Сторінка 2 - 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. Nor do we merely feel these essences For one short hour; no, even as the trees That whisper round a temple become soon Dear as the temple's self, so does the moon, The passion poesy, glories infinite...
Сторінка 145 - Which was, to lead him, in close secrecy, Even to Madeline's chamber, and there hide Him in a closet, of such privacy...