The Poetical Works of John KeatsEdward Moxon & Company, Dover street., 1863 - 301 էջ |
From inside the book
Արդյունքներ 29–ի 1-ից 5-ը:
Էջ 4
... Muse , and speak it loud " 324 POSTHUMOUS POEMS . ... Fingal's Cave ... To 327 328 330 • 331 • 332 333 334 + • 336 339 342 ... Hymn to Apollo . Lines Song • Faery Song La Belle Dame Sans Merci : A Ballad . The Eve of St. Mark ...
... Muse , and speak it loud " 324 POSTHUMOUS POEMS . ... Fingal's Cave ... To 327 328 330 • 331 • 332 333 334 + • 336 339 342 ... Hymn to Apollo . Lines Song • Faery Song La Belle Dame Sans Merci : A Ballad . The Eve of St. Mark ...
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... Muse defend her son . It is the old story , the lost heir discovered by his aptitude for what is gentle and knightly . Before long we find him studying Chaucer , then Shakspeare , and afterward Milton . That he read wisely , his ...
... Muse defend her son . It is the old story , the lost heir discovered by his aptitude for what is gentle and knightly . Before long we find him studying Chaucer , then Shakspeare , and afterward Milton . That he read wisely , his ...
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... muse ! let not my weak tongue falter In telling of this goodly company , Of their old piety , and of their glee : But let a portion of ethereal dew Fall on my head , and presently unmew My soul ; that I may dare , in wayfaring , To ...
... muse ! let not my weak tongue falter In telling of this goodly company , Of their old piety , and of their glee : But let a portion of ethereal dew Fall on my head , and presently unmew My soul ; that I may dare , in wayfaring , To ...
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... muse What it might mean . Perhaps , thought I , Mor- pheus , In passing here , his owlet pinions shook ; Or , it may be , ere matron Night uptook Her ebon urn , young Mercury , by stealth , Had dipp'd his rod in it : such garland wealth ...
... muse What it might mean . Perhaps , thought I , Mor- pheus , In passing here , his owlet pinions shook ; Or , it may be , ere matron Night uptook Her ebon urn , young Mercury , by stealth , Had dipp'd his rod in it : such garland wealth ...
Էջ 63
... muse's smile , or kind behest , The path of love and poesy . But rest , In chafing restlessness , is yet more drear · Than to be crush'd , in striving to uprear Love's standard on the battlements of song . So once more days and nights ...
... muse's smile , or kind behest , The path of love and poesy . But rest , In chafing restlessness , is yet more drear · Than to be crush'd , in striving to uprear Love's standard on the battlements of song . So once more days and nights ...
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Common terms and phrases
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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Էջ 265 - 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.
Էջ 189 - 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...
Էջ 266 - 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...
Էջ 35 - 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.
Էջ 256 - 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.
Էջ 199 - 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.
Էջ 16 - And strength by limping sway disabled, And art made tongue-tied by authority...
Էջ 348 - 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!
Էջ 167 - 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.
Էջ 264 - 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.