The Poetical Works of John Keats: With a LifeLittle, Brown. Shepard, Clark and Brown, 1859 - 438 Seiten |
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Seite 22
... morning incense from the fields of May , As do those brighter drops that twinkling stray From those kind eyes , the very home and haunt Of sisterly affection . Can I want Aught else , aught nearer heaven , than such tears ? Yet dry them ...
... morning incense from the fields of May , As do those brighter drops that twinkling stray From those kind eyes , the very home and haunt Of sisterly affection . Can I want Aught else , aught nearer heaven , than such tears ? Yet dry them ...
Seite 55
... Officiously . Sideway his face reposed On one white arm , and tenderly unclosed , By tenderest pressure , a faint damask mouth To slumbery pout ; just as the morning south Disparts a dew - lipp'd rose . Above his head ENDYMION . 55.
... Officiously . Sideway his face reposed On one white arm , and tenderly unclosed , By tenderest pressure , a faint damask mouth To slumbery pout ; just as the morning south Disparts a dew - lipp'd rose . Above his head ENDYMION . 55.
Seite 61
... morning once I fled away Into the breezy clouds , to weep and pray For this my love : for vexing Mars had teased Me even to tears : thence , when a little eased , Down - looking , vacant , through a hazy wood , I saw this youth as he ...
... morning once I fled away Into the breezy clouds , to weep and pray For this my love : for vexing Mars had teased Me even to tears : thence , when a little eased , Down - looking , vacant , through a hazy wood , I saw this youth as he ...
Seite 64
... morning eagle , lost and weary , And purblind amid foggy midnight wolds . But he revives at once : for who beholds New sudden things , nor casts his mental slough ? Forth from a rugged arch , in the dusk below , Came mother Cybele ...
... morning eagle , lost and weary , And purblind amid foggy midnight wolds . But he revives at once : for who beholds New sudden things , nor casts his mental slough ? Forth from a rugged arch , in the dusk below , Came mother Cybele ...
Seite 66
... morning gates of heaven ? Or keeping watch among those starry seven , Old Atlas ' children ? Art a maid of the waters , One of shell - winding Triton's bright - hair'd daugh ters ? Or art , impossible ! a nymph of Dian's , Weaving a ...
... morning gates of heaven ? Or keeping watch among those starry seven , Old Atlas ' children ? Art a maid of the waters , One of shell - winding Triton's bright - hair'd daugh ters ? Or art , impossible ! a nymph of Dian's , Weaving a ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Adieu Apollo Arethusa art thou Bacchus beauty beneath bliss blue bower breast breath bright Carian CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE cheek chidden clouds Corinth dark death deep delight divine dost doth dream earth Elysium Enceladus Endymion eyes face faint fair fear feel flowers forest gentle golden green grief hair hand happy head heart heaven Hermes Hyperion Keats kiss Lamia leaves light lips lone look lute Lycius lyre melodies moon morning mortal Muse Naiad never night nymph o'er once pain pale pass'd passion pleasant pleasure poet rill ring-dove rose round Saturn Satyrs Scylla seem'd shade sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spake spirit stars stept stood streams sweet tears tell tender thee thine things thou art thou hast thought trees trembling twas voice warm weep whispering wild wind wings wonders young youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 287 - 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 197 - Hyena foemen, and hot-blooded lords, Whose very dogs would execrations howl Against his lineage : not one breast affords Him any mercy, in that mansion foul, Save one old beldame, weak in body and in soul.
Seite 288 - 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.
Seite 369 - My spirit is too weak — Mortality Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep, And each imagined pinnacle and steep Of godlike hardship tells me I must die Like a sick eagle looking at the sky. Yet 'tis a gentle luxury to weep That I have not the cloudy winds to keep Fresh for the opening of the morning's eye.
Seite ix - And strength by limping sway disabled, And art made tongue-tied by authority...
Seite 302 - 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.
Seite 390 - I saw pale kings, and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried— "La Belle Dame sans Merci Hath thee in thrall!
Seite 202 - Of fruits and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass, And diamonded with panes of quaint device, Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes, As are the tiger-moth's deep-damask'd wings; And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries, And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings, A shielded scutcheon blush 'd with blood of queens and kings.
Seite 418 - Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask Of snow upon the mountains and the moors: — No — yet still steadfast, still unchangeable, Pillow'd upon my fair Love's ripening breast To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest; Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever, — or else swoon to death.
Seite 198 - Good Saints! not here, not here; Follow me, child, or else these stones will be thy bier.