The Poetical Works of John KeatsEdward Moxon & Company, Dover street., 1863 - 301 ページ |
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35 ページ
... breath- ing . Therefore , on every morrow , are we wreathing A flowery band to bind us to the earth , Spite of despondence , of the inhuman dearth Of noble natures , of the gloomy days , Of all the unhealthy and o'er - darken'd ways ...
... breath- ing . Therefore , on every morrow , are we wreathing A flowery band to bind us to the earth , Spite of despondence , of the inhuman dearth Of noble natures , of the gloomy days , Of all the unhealthy and o'er - darken'd ways ...
38 ページ
... breath of music , which even then Fill'd out its voice , and died away again . Within a little space again it gave Its airy swellings , with a gentle wave , To light - hung leaves , in smoothest echoes breaking Through copse - clad ...
... breath of music , which even then Fill'd out its voice , and died away again . Within a little space again it gave Its airy swellings , with a gentle wave , To light - hung leaves , in smoothest echoes breaking Through copse - clad ...
44 ページ
... breath Of Zephyr slew him , - Zephyr penitent , Who now , ere Phoebus mounts the firmament , Fondles the flower amid the sobbing rain . The archers too , upon a wider plain , Beside the feathery whizzing of the shaft And the dull ...
... breath Of Zephyr slew him , - Zephyr penitent , Who now , ere Phoebus mounts the firmament , Fondles the flower amid the sobbing rain . The archers too , upon a wider plain , Beside the feathery whizzing of the shaft And the dull ...
56 ページ
... breathing , not the spider's shuttle , Circled a million times within the space Of a swallow's nest - door , could delay a trace , A tinting of its quality : how light Must dreams themselves be ; seeing they're more slight Than the mere ...
... breathing , not the spider's shuttle , Circled a million times within the space Of a swallow's nest - door , could delay a trace , A tinting of its quality : how light Must dreams themselves be ; seeing they're more slight Than the mere ...
58 ページ
... breath , Produce more than our searching witnesseth : What I know not : but who , of men , can tell That flowers would bloom , or that green fruit would swell To melting pulp , that fish would have bright mail , The earth its dower of ...
... breath , Produce more than our searching witnesseth : What I know not : but who , of men , can tell That flowers would bloom , or that green fruit would swell To melting pulp , that fish would have bright mail , The earth its dower of ...
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Adieu Apollo art thou beauty beneath Beneath the silence bliss blue bower breast breath bright buds censer CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE clouds Corinth dark dear delight divine dost doth dream Dryad e'er earth ELGIN MARBLES Elysium Endymion eyes face fair fancy feel flowers forest gentle golden Gondibert gone green hair hand happy head heart heaven Keats kiss Lamia leaves light lips look lute Lycius lyre melodies Mermaid Tavern morning mortal Muse Naiad never night nymphs o'er pain pale pinions pleasant pleasure poesy poet rills ring-doves rose round Saturn seem'd shade sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spirit stars stept stood strange streams sweet tears tell tender thee thine things thou art thou hast thought trees trembling twas voice warm weep whence whispering wild wind wings wonders young youth
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265 ページ - 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 redbreast whistles from a garden-croft, And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
189 ページ - St Agnes' Eve — Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold ; The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass, And silent was the flock in woolly fold : Numb were the Beadsman's fingers, while he told His rosary, and while his frosted breath, Like pious incense from a censer old, Seem'd taking flight for heaven, without a death, Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith...
266 ページ - She dwells with Beauty — Beauty that must die; And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh, Turning to Poison while the bee-mouth sips: Ay, in the very temple of delight Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine...
35 ページ - 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.
256 ページ - Forlorn ! the very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self! Adieu ! the fancy cannot cheat so well 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 ? ODE ON A GRECIAN URN.
199 ページ - 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.
16 ページ - And strength by limping sway disabled, And art made tongue-tied by authority...
348 ページ - I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!
167 ページ - 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.
264 ページ - To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core ; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel ; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease ; For Summer has o'erbrimmed their clammy cells.