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Сторінка 157 - The same that oft-times hath Charmed magic casements opening on the foam Of perilous seas in faery lands forlorn. Forlorn ! the very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self. " Was it a vision or a waking dream ? Fled is that
Сторінка 153 - I saw their starved lips in the gloam With horrid warning gaped wide ; And I awoke, and found me here On the cold hill-side. " And this is why I sojourn here, Alone and palely loitering ; Though the sedge is withered from the lake, And no birds sing.
Сторінка 157 - Darkling I listen : and for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death,— Called 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.
Сторінка 156 - She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die ; And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh, Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips. Ay, in the very temple of Delight Veiled Melancholy has her sovran shrine.
Сторінка 153 - I see a lily on thy brow, With anguish moist and fever-dew ; And on thy cheeks a fading rose Fast withereth too." " I met a lady in the meads, Full beautiful, a faery's child ; Her hair was long, her foot was light,
Сторінка 156 - But, when the melancholy fit shall fall Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud, That fosters the droop-headed flowers all, And hides the green hill in an April shroud, Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose, Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave.
Сторінка 121 - 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
Сторінка 91 - Pillowed 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 78 - independently, and with judgment, hereafter. The :genius of poetry must work out its own salvation in a man. It cannot be matured by law and precept, but by ,sensation and watchfulness in itself. That which is creative must create itself. In 'Endymion
Сторінка 62 - the certain wands of Jacob's wit— Their verses tallied. Easy was the task ; A thousand handicraftsmen wore the mask Of Poesy. Ill-fated impious race, That blasphemed the bright lyrist to his face, And did not know it ! No, they went about Holding a poor decrepit standard out Marked with most flimsy mottoes, and in large The name of one Boileau.

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