The Poetical Works of John KeatsWiley & Putnam, 1847 - 256 oldal |
Részletek a könyvből
1 - 5 találat összesen 48 találatból.
15. oldal
... tears ? Yet dry them up , in bidding hence all fears That , any longer , I will pass my days Alone and sad . No , I will once more raise My voice upon the mountain - heights ; once more Make my horn parley from their foreheads hoar ...
... tears ? Yet dry them up , in bidding hence all fears That , any longer , I will pass my days Alone and sad . No , I will once more raise My voice upon the mountain - heights ; once more Make my horn parley from their foreheads hoar ...
21. oldal
... tears , My clenched hands ; -for lo ! the poppies hung Dew - dabbled on their stalks , the ouzel sung A heavy ditty , and the sullen day Had chidden herald Hesperus away , With leaden looks : the solitary breeze Bluster'd , and slept ...
... tears , My clenched hands ; -for lo ! the poppies hung Dew - dabbled on their stalks , the ouzel sung A heavy ditty , and the sullen day Had chidden herald Hesperus away , With leaden looks : the solitary breeze Bluster'd , and slept ...
28. oldal
... tears were coming , when I heard my name Most fondly lipp'd , and then these accents came : ' Endymion ! the cave is secreter Than the isle of Delos . Echo hence shall stir No sighs but sigh - warm kisses , or light noise Of thy combing ...
... tears were coming , when I heard my name Most fondly lipp'd , and then these accents came : ' Endymion ! the cave is secreter Than the isle of Delos . Echo hence shall stir No sighs but sigh - warm kisses , or light noise Of thy combing ...
29. oldal
... tears Have become indolent ; but touching thine , One sigh doth echo , one poor sob doth pine , One kiss brings honey - dew from buried days . The woes of Troy , towers smothering o'er their blaze , Stiff - holden shields , far ...
... tears Have become indolent ; but touching thine , One sigh doth echo , one poor sob doth pine , One kiss brings honey - dew from buried days . The woes of Troy , towers smothering o'er their blaze , Stiff - holden shields , far ...
30. oldal
... tears , the swoon of Imogen , Fair Pastorella in the bandit's den , Are things to brood on with more ardency Than the death - day of empires . Fearfully Must such conviction come upon his head , Who , thus far , discontent , has dared ...
... tears , the swoon of Imogen , Fair Pastorella in the bandit's den , Are things to brood on with more ardency Than the death - day of empires . Fearfully Must such conviction come upon his head , Who , thus far , discontent , has dared ...
Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
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
Népszerű szakaszok
123. oldal - 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.
1. oldal - 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.
1. oldal - 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...
202. oldal - 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.
213. oldal - 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.
211. oldal - 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.
202. oldal - 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.
211. oldal - 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...
2. oldal - 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...
145. oldal - Which was, to lead him, in close secrecy, Even to Madeline's chamber, and there hide Him in a closet, of such privacy...