The Poetical Works of John KeatsW. Scott, 1885 - 310 стор. |
З цієї книги
Результати 1-5 із 38
Сторінка 11
... Sound we have , for example , in the line- " Born of the very sigh that silence heaves . " What more redolent of sweet summer air did Keats ever give us than this- " Here are sweet peas on tiptoe for a flight ; With wings of gentle ...
... Sound we have , for example , in the line- " Born of the very sigh that silence heaves . " What more redolent of sweet summer air did Keats ever give us than this- " Here are sweet peas on tiptoe for a flight ; With wings of gentle ...
Сторінка 42
... sounds he won , And gave meek Cynthia her Endymion . Queen of the wide air ; thou most lovely queen Of all the brightness that mine eyes have seen ! As thou exceedest all things in thy shine , So every tale , does this sweet tale of ...
... sounds he won , And gave meek Cynthia her Endymion . Queen of the wide air ; thou most lovely queen Of all the brightness that mine eyes have seen ! As thou exceedest all things in thy shine , So every tale , does this sweet tale of ...
Сторінка 49
... glory to the voice , And from the heart upsprings , rejoice ! rejoice ! Sounds which will reach the Framer of all things , And die away in ardent mutterings . No one who once the glorious sun has seen , SLEEP AND POETRY . 49.
... glory to the voice , And from the heart upsprings , rejoice ! rejoice ! Sounds which will reach the Framer of all things , And die away in ardent mutterings . No one who once the glorious sun has seen , SLEEP AND POETRY . 49.
Сторінка 54
... sound , Huge as a planet , and like that roll round , Eternally round a dizzy void ? Ay , in those days the Muses were nigh cloyed With honours ; nor had any other care Than to sing out and soothe their wavy hair . Could all this be ...
... sound , Huge as a planet , and like that roll round , Eternally round a dizzy void ? Ay , in those days the Muses were nigh cloyed With honours ; nor had any other care Than to sing out and soothe their wavy hair . Could all this be ...
Сторінка 55
... sound , And weep ? Or did ye wholly bid adieu To regions where no more the laurel grew ? Or did ye stay to give a ... sounds are floating wild About the earth : happy are ye and glad . These things are doubtless : yet in truth we've had ...
... sound , And weep ? Or did ye wholly bid adieu To regions where no more the laurel grew ? Or did ye stay to give a ... sounds are floating wild About the earth : happy are ye and glad . These things are doubtless : yet in truth we've had ...
Інші видання - Показати все
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
Популярні уривки
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...