The Poetical Works of John KeatsWalter Scott, 24 Warwick lane, Paternoster row, and Newcastle-on-Tyne., 1886 - 310 oldal |
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1 - 5 találat összesen 29 találatból.
vi. oldal
... To a Nightingale 7 On a Grecian Urn 7 To Psyche • Fancy Bards of Passion and of Mirth To Autumn • On Melancholy Lamia • PAGE 272 275 277 279 282 284 285 287 Introductory Sketch . HE impression the subject of this sketch vi CONTENTS .
... To a Nightingale 7 On a Grecian Urn 7 To Psyche • Fancy Bards of Passion and of Mirth To Autumn • On Melancholy Lamia • PAGE 272 275 277 279 282 284 285 287 Introductory Sketch . HE impression the subject of this sketch vi CONTENTS .
21. oldal
... passion , and it now seems to me but for this cause he might have lived many years . I can now understand his want of courage to speak , as it was consuming him in body and mind . " These words present , it seems to me , a more truthful ...
... passion , and it now seems to me but for this cause he might have lived many years . I can now understand his want of courage to speak , as it was consuming him in body and mind . " These words present , it seems to me , a more truthful ...
25. oldal
... passion would kill me . . . It surprises me that the human heart is capable of containing and bearing so much misery . " friends were now in Rome . In the very last letter he wrote he said " I have an habitual feeling of my real life ...
... passion would kill me . . . It surprises me that the human heart is capable of containing and bearing so much misery . " friends were now in Rome . In the very last letter he wrote he said " I have an habitual feeling of my real life ...
30. oldal
... Passion . " What compression of truth is here ! Keats's definition of poetry is a singularly good description of what we meet with in his own poems- " Might , half slumbering on its own right arm " -a very beautiful and comprehensive ...
... Passion . " What compression of truth is here ! Keats's definition of poetry is a singularly good description of what we meet with in his own poems- " Might , half slumbering on its own right arm " -a very beautiful and comprehensive ...
64. oldal
... passion poesy , glories infinite , Haunt us till they become a cheering light Unto our souls , and bound to us so fast , That , whether there be shine or gloom o'ercast , They always must be with us or we die . Therefore , ' tis with ...
... passion poesy , glories infinite , Haunt us till they become a cheering light Unto our souls , and bound to us so fast , That , whether there be shine or gloom o'ercast , They always must be with us or we die . Therefore , ' tis with ...
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adieu Art thou Bacchus beauty behold beneath bliss bower breath bright Carian Charles Armitage Brown charm clouds cold cool Corinth dark death deep delight dewy divine dost doth dream ears earth Elysium Enceladus Endymion eyes face faint fair Fanny Brawne fear feel flowers forest gentle Goddess golden green grief hair hand happy heard heart heaven Hyperion immortal Keats kiss Lamia leaves Leigh Hunt light lips lone look Lord Houghton lute Lycius lyre melody moon morning mortal Naiad never night nymph o'er once pain pale passed passion pleasant poet Porphyro rill ringdove rose round Saturn Scylla shade sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft sorrow soul spake spirit stars stept stood sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thou hast thought touch trees trembling twas voice weep whisper wide wild wind wings wonders young
Népszerű szakaszok
260. oldal - ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE. 1. 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 thy happiness— That thou,
273. oldal - 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. ODE ON MELANCHOLY.
260. oldal - song, and sunburnt mirth. 0 for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth ; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim
262. oldal - 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 fairy lands forlorn. Forlorn
264. oldal - not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare ; Bold lover, never, never canst thon kiss, Though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve ; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair I
264. oldal - warm and still to be enjoyed, For ever panting, and for ever young ; All breathing human passion far above, That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloyed, A burning forehead, and a parching tongue. Who are these coming to the sacrifice ? And all her silken flanks with garlands drest ? What little town by river or sea-shore, To what green altar,
221. oldal - And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep, In blanched linen, smooth, and lavendered, While he forth from the closet brought a heap Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd ; With jellies soother than the creamy Curd, And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon ; Manna and dates, in argosy transferred From Fez ; and spicid dainties, every one, From silken
267. oldal - and a casement ope at night, To let the warm Love in ! ,/- .^',.'«' FANCY. EVER let the Fancy roam, Pleasure never is at home : At a touch sweet pleasure melteth, Like to bubbles when rain pelteth ; Then let winged Fancy wander Through the thought still spread beyond her : Open wide the mind's cage-door, She'll dart forth, and
264. oldal - e'er return. V. O Attic shape ! Fair attitude ! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed ; Thon, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity : Cold Pastoral ! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou
263. oldal - she is famed to do, deceiving elf. Adieu ! adieu ! thy plaintive anthem fades Fast 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 ia that