The Poetical Works of John KeatsWiley & Putnam, 1847 - 256 страница |
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... HAPPY IS ENGLAND ! I COULD BE CONTENT " THE HUMAN SEASONS ON A PICTURE OF LEANDER TO AILSA ROCK EPISTLES- 242 243 243 . 244 244 • 245 245 TO GEORGE FELTON MATHEW • 246 TO MY BROTHER GEORGE TO CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE 249 253 ENDYMION : A ...
... HAPPY IS ENGLAND ! I COULD BE CONTENT " THE HUMAN SEASONS ON A PICTURE OF LEANDER TO AILSA ROCK EPISTLES- 242 243 243 . 244 244 • 245 245 TO GEORGE FELTON MATHEW • 246 TO MY BROTHER GEORGE TO CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE 249 253 ENDYMION : A ...
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... happy pens Whither his brethren , bleating with content , Over the hills at every night - fall went . Among the shepherds ' twas believed ever , That not one fleecy lamb which thus did sever From the white flock , but pass'd unworried ...
... happy pens Whither his brethren , bleating with content , Over the hills at every night - fall went . Among the shepherds ' twas believed ever , That not one fleecy lamb which thus did sever From the white flock , but pass'd unworried ...
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... happy changes in emphatic dreams , Along a path between two little streams , — Guarding his forehead , with her round elbow , From low - grown branches , and his footsteps slow From stumbling over stumps and hillocks small ; Until they ...
... happy changes in emphatic dreams , Along a path between two little streams , — Guarding his forehead , with her round elbow , From low - grown branches , and his footsteps slow From stumbling over stumps and hillocks small ; Until they ...
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... happy chance : so happy , I was fain To follow it upon the open plain , And , therefore , was just going ; when , behold ! A wonder , fair as any I have told- The same bright face I tasted in my sleep , Smiling in the clear well . My ...
... happy chance : so happy , I was fain To follow it upon the open plain , And , therefore , was just going ; when , behold ! A wonder , fair as any I have told- The same bright face I tasted in my sleep , Smiling in the clear well . My ...
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... happy , by comparison of bliss , Is miserable . ' Twas even so with this Dew - dropping melody , in the Carian's ear ; First heaven , then hell , and then forgotten clear , Vanish'd in elemental passion . And down some swart abysm he ...
... happy , by comparison of bliss , Is miserable . ' Twas even so with this Dew - dropping melody , in the Carian's ear ; First heaven , then hell , and then forgotten clear , Vanish'd in elemental passion . And down some swart abysm he ...
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adieu Apollo Art thou Bacchus beauty beneath bliss blue bower breast breath bright Carian clouds cool Corinth dark deep delight divine dost doth dream earth EDWARD MOXON Elysium Enceladus Endymion eyes face faint fair fear feel flowers forest gentle Goddess golden green grief hair hand happy head heart heaven hour Hyperion immortal JOHN KEATS kiss Lamia leaves LEIGH HUNT light lips lone lute Lycius lyre melodies morning mortal Muse Naiad never night nymph o'er pain pale pass'd PHILIP VAN ARTEVELDE pinions pleasant pleasure rill rose round Saturn Scylla seem'd shade sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spake spirit stars stept stood strange streams sweet tears tell tender thee thine things thou art thou hast thought trees trembling twas voice weep whence whispering wild wind wings wonders young youth
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Страница 123 - 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 will clip an Angel's wings, Conquer all mysteries by rule and line, Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine— Unweave a rainbow, as it erewhile made The tender-person'd Lamia melt into a shade.
Страница 1 - A THING of beauty is a joy for ever : Its loveliness increases ; it will never Pass into nothingness ; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Страница 1 - 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...
Страница 202 - 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; 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! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain To thy high requiem become a sod.
Страница 213 - I have heard that on a day Mine host's sign-board flew away, Nobody knew whither, till An astrologer's old quill To a sheepskin gave the story,— Said he saw you in your glory, Underneath a new old-sign Sipping beverage divine, And pledging with contented smack The Mermaid in the Zodiac.
Страница 211 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, — While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft ; And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
Страница 202 - Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird ! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath Charmed magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas in faery lands forlorn.
Страница 211 - 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...
Страница 2 - We have imagined for the mighty dead; All lovely tales that we have heard or read : An endless fountain of immortal drink, Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink. Nor do we merely feel these essences For one short hour; no, even as the trees That whisper round a temple become soon Dear as the temple's self, so does the moon, The passion poesy, glories infinite...
Страница 145 - Which was, to lead him, in close secrecy, Even to Madeline's chamber, and there hide Him in a closet, of such privacy...