PoemsGinn & Company, 1896 - 302 стор. |
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Сторінка 8
... Close bosom - friend of the maturing sun ; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch - eves run ; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage - trees , 5 And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core ...
... Close bosom - friend of the maturing sun ; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch - eves run ; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage - trees , 5 And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core ...
Сторінка 48
... close by the stream You may have your cream All spread upon barley bread . 2 . There's arch Brook And there's larch Brook , Both turning many a mill : And cooling the drouth Of the salmon's mouth , And flattening his silver gill . 3 ...
... close by the stream You may have your cream All spread upon barley bread . 2 . There's arch Brook And there's larch Brook , Both turning many a mill : And cooling the drouth Of the salmon's mouth , And flattening his silver gill . 3 ...
Сторінка 71
... close after these , Now coming from beneath the forest trees , A venerable priest full soberly , Begirt with minist'ring looks : alway his eye 150 Steadfast upon the matted turf he kept , And after him his sacred vestments swept . From ...
... close after these , Now coming from beneath the forest trees , A venerable priest full soberly , Begirt with minist'ring looks : alway his eye 150 Steadfast upon the matted turf he kept , And after him his sacred vestments swept . From ...
Сторінка 76
... close , A shout from the whole multitude arose , That lingered in the air like dying rolls Of abrupt thunder , when Ionian shoals 310 Of dolphins bob their noses through the brine . Meantime , on shady levels , mossy fine , Young ...
... close , A shout from the whole multitude arose , That lingered in the air like dying rolls Of abrupt thunder , when Ionian shoals 310 Of dolphins bob their noses through the brine . Meantime , on shady levels , mossy fine , Young ...
Сторінка 79
... close they huddled from the cold , And shar'd their famish'd scrips . Thus all out - told Their fond imaginations , saving him Whose eyelids curtain'd up their jewels dim , Endymion yet hourly had he striven 395 To hide the cankering ...
... close they huddled from the cold , And shar'd their famish'd scrips . Thus all out - told Their fond imaginations , saving him Whose eyelids curtain'd up their jewels dim , Endymion yet hourly had he striven 395 To hide the cankering ...
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९९ adieu Æschylus Bacchus beauty behold beneath bliss bower breath bright Carian Charles Cowden Clarke clouds cold Corinth dark death deep delight dost doth dream ears earth Enceladus Endymion eyes Faerie Queene faint fair fear feel flowers forest gentle gloom goddess golden green grief hair hand happy heart heaven Hyperion immortal John Keats Keats Keats's kiss Lamia leaves Leigh Hunt light lips lone lute Lycius lyre melody morning mortal Naiad never night nymph o'er Ode to Psyche pain pale pass'd passion pleasant poem poet poetry rose round Saturn Scylla seem'd shade sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft song sonnet sorrow soul spake spirit stars stept stood sweet tears tell tender thee thine things thou art thou hast thought trees trembling vex'd voice weep whisper wide wild wind wings wonder young youth ΙΟ
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Сторінка 5 - O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, "Beauty is truth, truth beauty," — that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Сторінка 55 - And there she lulled me asleep And there I dream'd — Ah! woe betide! The latest dream I ever dream'd On the cold hill side. 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 3 - 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...
Сторінка 5 - Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; And, happy melodist, unwearied, For ever piping songs for ever new; More happy love!
Сторінка 2 - Away ! away ! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee ! tender is the night. And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays...
Сторінка 272 - Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast, As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon; Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, And on her silver cross soft amethyst, And on her hair a glory, like a saint: She seem'da splendid angel, newly drest, Save wings, for heaven: Porphyro grew faint: She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.
Сторінка 276 - The blisses of her dream so pure and deep At which fair Madeline began to weep, And moan forth witless words with many a sigh; While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep; Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye, Fearing to move or speak, she look'd so dreamingly. XXXV 'Ah, Porphyro!
Сторінка 4 - Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Сторінка 2 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet...
Сторінка 10 - 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, Or on the wealth of globed peonies...