The Poetical Works of John Keats: In Two Parts, Delen 1-2Wiley & Putnam, 1846 |
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Pagina 5
... grandeur of the dooms 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.
... grandeur of the dooms 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.
Pagina 15
... dead , But in old marbles ever beautiful . High genitors , unconscious did they cull Time's sweet first - fruits - they danced to weariness , And then in quiet circles did they press The hillock turf , and caught the latter end Of some ...
... dead , But in old marbles ever beautiful . High genitors , unconscious did they cull Time's sweet first - fruits - they danced to weariness , And then in quiet circles did they press The hillock turf , and caught the latter end Of some ...
Pagina 16
In Two Parts John Keats. Were dead and gone , and her caressing tongue Lay a lost thing upon her paly lip , And very , very deadliness did nip Her motherly cheeks . Aroused from this sad mood By one , who at a distance loud halloo'd ...
In Two Parts John Keats. Were dead and gone , and her caressing tongue Lay a lost thing upon her paly lip , And very , very deadliness did nip Her motherly cheeks . Aroused from this sad mood By one , who at a distance loud halloo'd ...
Pagina 17
... close of trembling palms , Or maiden's sigh , that grief itself embalms : But in the self - same fixed trance he kept , Like one who on the earth had never stept . Ay , even as dead - still as a marble BOOK I. ] 17 ENDYMION .
... close of trembling palms , Or maiden's sigh , that grief itself embalms : But in the self - same fixed trance he kept , Like one who on the earth had never stept . Ay , even as dead - still as a marble BOOK I. ] 17 ENDYMION .
Pagina 18
In Two Parts John Keats. Ay , even as dead - still as a marble man , Frozen in that old tale Arabian . Who whispers him so pantingly and close ? Peona , his sweet sister of all those , His friends , the dearest . Hushing signs she made ...
In Two Parts John Keats. Ay , even as dead - still as a marble man , Frozen in that old tale Arabian . Who whispers him so pantingly and close ? Peona , his sweet sister of all those , His friends , the dearest . Hushing signs she made ...
Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
adieu Apollo Arethusa Art thou Bacchus beauty beneath bliss blue bower breast breath bright Carian censer chidden clouds cool Corinth dark deep delight divine dost doth dream earth Elysium Enceladus Endymion eyes face faint fair fear feel flowers forehead forest gentle Goddess golden green grief hair hand happy head heart heaven Hermes hour Hyperion Iapetus immortal kiss Lamia leaves light lips lone lute Lycius lyre melodies morning mortal mossy Muse Naiad never night nymph o'er pain pale pass'd passion Phorcus pinions pleasant pleasure rill ringdove rose round Saturn Satyrs 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 Vex'd voice weep whence whispering wild wind wings wonders young youth
Populaire passages
Pagina 114 - 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'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.
Pagina 116 - But when the melancholy fit shall fall Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud, That fosters the droop-headed flowers all, And hides the green hill in an April shroud; Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose, Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave, Or on the wealth of globed peonies; Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows, Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave, And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.
Pagina 105 - 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...
Pagina 155 - Into forgetfulness ; and, for the sage, Let spear-grass and the spiteful thistle wage War on his temples. Do not all charms fly At the mere touch of cold philosophy?
Pagina 37 - While he from forth 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 transferr'd From Fez, and spiced dainties, every one, From silken Samarcand to cedar'd Lebanon.
Pagina 64 - Or shall the tree be envious of the dove Because it cooeth, and hath snowy wings To wander wherewithal and find its joys ? We are such forest-trees, and our fair boughs Have bred forth, not pale solitary doves, But eagles golden-feather'd, who do tower Above us in their beauty, and must reign In right thereof; for 'tis the eternal law That first in beauty should be first in might : Yea, by that law, another race may drive Our conquerors to mourn as we do now.
Pagina 137 - Homer ruled as his demesne ; Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold : Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He...
Pagina 123 - The morning precious: beauty was awake! Why were ye not awake? But ye were dead To things ye knew not of, — were closely wed To musty laws lined out with wretched rule And compass vile: so that ye taught a school Of dolts to smooth, inlay, and clip, and fit, Till, like the certain wands of Jacob's wit, Their verses tallied.
Pagina 33 - Which was, to lead him, in close secrecy, Even to Madeline's chamber, and there hide Him in a closet, of such privacy...
Pagina 36 - Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed, Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees, In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed, But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled.