The Poetical Works of John KeatsW. Scott, 1885 - 310 стор. |
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Сторінка 38
... silent comes the water round that bend ! Not the minutest whisper does it send To the o'erhanging sallows : blades of grass Slowly across the chequered shadows pass . Why , you might read two sonnets ere they reach To where the hurrying ...
... silent comes the water round that bend ! Not the minutest whisper does it send To the o'erhanging sallows : blades of grass Slowly across the chequered shadows pass . Why , you might read two sonnets ere they reach To where the hurrying ...
Сторінка 49
... Silent entangler of a beauty's tresses ! Most happy listener ! when the morning blesses Thee for enlivening all the cheerful eyes That glance so brightly at the new sunrise . But what is higher beyond thought than thee ? Fresher than ...
... Silent entangler of a beauty's tresses ! Most happy listener ! when the morning blesses Thee for enlivening all the cheerful eyes That glance so brightly at the new sunrise . But what is higher beyond thought than thee ? Fresher than ...
Сторінка 56
... silent space with ever - sprouting green . All tenderest birds there find a pleasant screen , Creep through the shade with jaunty fluttering , Nibble the little cuppèd flowers , and sing . Then let us clear away the choking thorns From ...
... silent space with ever - sprouting green . All tenderest birds there find a pleasant screen , Creep through the shade with jaunty fluttering , Nibble the little cuppèd flowers , and sing . Then let us clear away the choking thorns From ...
Сторінка 66
... silent workings of the dawn Were busiest , into that self - same lawn All suddenly , with joyful cries , there sped A troop of little children garlanded ; Who , gathering round the altar , seemed to pry Earnestly round , as wishing to ...
... silent workings of the dawn Were busiest , into that self - same lawn All suddenly , with joyful cries , there sped A troop of little children garlanded ; Who , gathering round the altar , seemed to pry Earnestly round , as wishing to ...
Сторінка 69
... silent round the shrine : each look was changed To sudden veneration : women meek Beckoned their sons to silence ; while each cheek Of virgin bloom paled gently for slight fear . Endymion too , without a forest peer , Stood , wan and ...
... silent round the shrine : each look was changed To sudden veneration : women meek Beckoned their sons to silence ; while each cheek Of virgin bloom paled gently for slight fear . Endymion too , without a forest peer , Stood , wan and ...
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Загальні терміни та фрази
Apollo Arethusa Art thou Bacchus beauty behold bliss bosom bower breast breath bright Carian charm chidden clouds cold cool dark dead death deep delight dewy dost doth dream ears earth Elysium Endymion eyes face faint fair Fanny Brawne fear feel flowers forest gentle golden gone green grief hair hand happy heard heart heaven hour Hyperion immortal Keats kiss Lamia leaves Leigh Hunt light lips lone look lute Lycius lyre Mermaid Tavern moon morning mortal mossy Naiad never night nymph o'er pain pale passed passion pleasant poet Porphyro rill ringdove rose round Saturn Satyrs Scylla shade sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft sorrow soul spake spirit stars stept stood strange sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thou hast thought trees trembling twas voice weep whisper wild wind wings wonders young youth
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Сторінка 271 - THOU still unravish'd bride of quietness!* Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme...
Сторінка 269 - 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 271 - Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hillside; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: — Do I wake or sleep?
Сторінка 268 - 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 270 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But in embalmed darkness guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket...
Сторінка 223 - And be liege-lord of all the Elves and Fays, To venture so: it fills me with amaze To see thee, Porphyro ! — St. Agnes' Eve ! God's help! my lady fair the conjuror plays This very night: good angels her deceive! But let me laugh awhile, — I've mickle time to grieve.
Сторінка 269 - 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 61 - 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 ; and clear rills That for themselves a cooling covert make 'Gainst the hot season ; the mid-forest brake, Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms ; And such too is the grandeur of the dooms We have imagined for the mighty dead...
Сторінка 229 - 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 280 - Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store ? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, 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...