PoemsGinn & Company, 1896 - 302 Seiten |
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Seite xix
... poor Keats , in poverty , despairing and dying , began to be recognized as a man of genius . Even Byron , who had seen nothing in Keats's early work , pronounced Hyperion worthy of Æschylus . The poet was by this time , however , too ...
... poor Keats , in poverty , despairing and dying , began to be recognized as a man of genius . Even Byron , who had seen nothing in Keats's early work , pronounced Hyperion worthy of Æschylus . The poet was by this time , however , too ...
Seite 22
... Poor Nymph , poor Pan , how did he weep to find , Naught but a lovely sighing of the wind 160 Along the reedy stream ; a half - heard strain , Full of sweet desolation - balmy pain . What first inspired a bard of old to sing Narcissus ...
... Poor Nymph , poor Pan , how did he weep to find , Naught but a lovely sighing of the wind 160 Along the reedy stream ; a half - heard strain , Full of sweet desolation - balmy pain . What first inspired a bard of old to sing Narcissus ...
Seite 37
... poor Indian's sleep While his boat hastens to the monstrous steep Of Montmorenci . Why so sad a moan ? Life is the rose's hope , while yet unblown ; The reading of an ever - changing tale ; The light uplifting of a maiden's veil ; A ...
... poor Indian's sleep While his boat hastens to the monstrous steep Of Montmorenci . Why so sad a moan ? Life is the rose's hope , while yet unblown ; The reading of an ever - changing tale ; The light uplifting of a maiden's veil ; A ...
Seite 40
... poor , decrepid standard out Mark'd with most flimsy mottos , and in large The name of one Boileau ! O ye whose charge It is to hover round our pleasant hills ! Whose congregated majesty so fills My boundly reverence , that I cannot ...
... poor , decrepid standard out Mark'd with most flimsy mottos , and in large The name of one Boileau ! O ye whose charge It is to hover round our pleasant hills ! Whose congregated majesty so fills My boundly reverence , that I cannot ...
Seite 51
... poor Ambition ! it springs From a man's little heart's short fever - fit ; For Poesy ! no , -— she has not a joy , — 25 30 35 At least for me , so sweet as drowsy noons , And evenings steep'd in honeyed indolence ; Oh , for an age so ...
... poor Ambition ! it springs From a man's little heart's short fever - fit ; For Poesy ! no , -— she has not a joy , — 25 30 35 At least for me , so sweet as drowsy noons , And evenings steep'd in honeyed indolence ; Oh , for an age so ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
९९ Agnes Arethusa Art thou Bacchus beauty behold beneath bliss bower breath bright Carian clouds cold Corinth dark death deep delight dost doth dream ears earth Enceladus Endymion eyes Faerie Queene faint fair fear feel flowers forest gentle gloom goddess golden green grief hair hand happy heart heaven Hermes Hyperion immortal John Keats Keats Keats's kiss Lamia leaves Leigh Hunt light lips lone lute Lycius lyre melody morning mortal Naiad never night nymph o'er Ode to Psyche once pain pale pass'd passion Peona poem poet poetry Porphyro rill rose round Saturn Scylla seem'd shade sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft song sonnet sorrow soul spake spirit stars stept stood sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thou hast thought trees trembling vex'd voice weep whisper wild wind wings wonders words young youth ΙΟ
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 5 - Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou 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! Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; And, happy melodist, unwearied, For ever piping songs for ever new; More happy love!
Seite 3 - 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!
Seite 189 - Saturn, quiet as a stone, Still as the silence round about his lair; Forest on forest hung about his head Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there, Not so much life as on a summer's day Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass, But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
Seite 8 - And in the midst of this wide quietness A rosy sanctuary will I dress With the wreath'd trellis of a working brain, With buds, and bells, and stars without a name, With all the gardener Fancy e'er could feign, Who breeding flowers, will never breed the same: And there shall be for thee all soft delight That shadowy thought can win, A bright torch, and a casement ope at night, To let the warm Love in ! FANCY.
Seite 10 - Melancholy has her sovran shrine. Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine; His soul shall taste the sadness of her might, And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
Seite 2 - Away ! away ! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee ! tender is the night. And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays...
Seite 5 - Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, "Beauty is truth, truth beauty," — that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Seite 2 - Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret, Here, where men sit and hear each other groan...
Seite 282 - Green little vaulter in the sunny grass, Catching your heart up at the feel of June, Sole voice that's heard amidst the lazy noon, When even the bees lag at the summoning brass; And you, warm little housekeeper, who class With those who think the candles come too soon, Loving the fire, and with your tricksome tune Nick the glad silent moments as they pass...
Seite 8 - Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers...