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arms beauty beneath bliss blue breast breath bright clear close clouds cold dark death deep delight doth dream earth Endymion eyes face fair fancy fear feel feet felt flowers forest friends gentle give golden gone green hand happy hast head hear heard heart heaven hour human Keats keep kiss leaves light lips live look mind morning mortal never night o'er once pain pale pass passion pleasant pleasure poet poor rest rose round seen shade side sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft song soon sorrow soul sound spirit stars stood strange streams sure sweet tears tell tender thee thine things thou thought took trees trembling twas voice wide wild wind wings wonders young youth
Сторінка 209 - 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: What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady ? What men or gods are these?
Сторінка 216 - Of their sorrows and delights ; Of their passions and their spites ; Of their glory and their shame ; What doth strengthen and what maim. Thus ye teach us, every day, Wisdom, though fled far away. Bards of Passion and of Mirth, Ye have left your souls on earth!
Сторінка 148 - As, supperless to bed they must retire, And couch supine their beauties, lily white; Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire.
Сторінка 182 - Knowledge enormous makes a God of me. Names, deeds, grey legends, dire events, rebellions, Majesties, sovran voices, agonies, Creations and destroyings, all at once Pour into the wide hollows of my brain, And deify me, as if some blithe wine Or bright elixir peerless I had drunk, And so become immortal...
Сторінка 215 - Where's the voice, however soft, One would hear so very oft? At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth Like to bubbles when rain pelteth. Let then winged Fancy find Thee a mistress to thy mind: Dulcet-eyed as Ceres' daughter, Ere the God of Torment taught her How to frown and how to chide; With a waist and with a side White as Hebe's, when her zone Slipt its golden clasp, and down Fell her kirtle to her feet, While she held the goblet sweet, And Jove grew languid. — Break the mesh Of the Fancy's silken...
Сторінка 209 - As she is famed to do, deceiving elf. Adieu ! adieu ! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; 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 155 - 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 157 - But his sagacious eye an inmate owns: By one, and one, the bolts full easy slide: — The chains lie silent on the footworn stones; The key turns, and the door upon its hinges groans. XLII And they are gone: ay, ages long ago 370 These lovers fled away into the storm.