The Poetical Works of John KeatsWiley & Putnam, 1847 - 256 Seiten |
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Seite 27
... Pleasure is oft a visitant ; but pain Clings cruelly to us , like the gnawing sloth On the deer's tender haunches : late , and loth , ' Tis scared away by slow - returning pleasure . How sickening , how dark the dreadful leisure Of ...
... Pleasure is oft a visitant ; but pain Clings cruelly to us , like the gnawing sloth On the deer's tender haunches : late , and loth , ' Tis scared away by slow - returning pleasure . How sickening , how dark the dreadful leisure Of ...
Seite 47
... pleasure ; ' bove his head Flew a delight half - graspable ; his tread Was Hesperean ; to his capable ears Silence was music from the holy spheres ; A dewy luxury was in his eyes ; The little flowers felt his pleasant sighs And stirr'd ...
... pleasure ; ' bove his head Flew a delight half - graspable ; his tread Was Hesperean ; to his capable ears Silence was music from the holy spheres ; A dewy luxury was in his eyes ; The little flowers felt his pleasant sighs And stirr'd ...
Seite 50
... pleasure , by some coward blushes : Yet must I be a coward ! Horror rushes Too palpable before me - the sad look Of Jove - Minerva's start - no bosom shook With awe of purity - no Cupid pinion In reverence veil'd - my crystalline ...
... pleasure , by some coward blushes : Yet must I be a coward ! Horror rushes Too palpable before me - the sad look Of Jove - Minerva's start - no bosom shook With awe of purity - no Cupid pinion In reverence veil'd - my crystalline ...
Seite 51
... pleasure , my sole life ? " - Hereat , with many sobs , her gentle strife Melted into a languor . He return'd Entranced vows and tears . Ye who have yearn'd With too much passion , will here stay and pity , For the mere sake of truth ...
... pleasure , my sole life ? " - Hereat , with many sobs , her gentle strife Melted into a languor . He return'd Entranced vows and tears . Ye who have yearn'd With too much passion , will here stay and pity , For the mere sake of truth ...
Seite 52
... pleasure's nipple ! and his love Henceforth was dove - like . - Loath was he to move From the imprinted couch , and when he did , ' Twas with slow , languid paces , and face hid In muffling hands . So temper'd , out he stray'd Half ...
... pleasure's nipple ! and his love Henceforth was dove - like . - Loath was he to move From the imprinted couch , and when he did , ' Twas with slow , languid paces , and face hid In muffling hands . So temper'd , out he stray'd Half ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
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
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 123 - 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.
Seite 1 - 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.
Seite 1 - 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...
Seite 202 - 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.
Seite 213 - 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.
Seite 211 - 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.
Seite 202 - 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.
Seite 211 - 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...
Seite 2 - 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...
Seite 145 - Which was, to lead him, in close secrecy, Even to Madeline's chamber, and there hide Him in a closet, of such privacy...