PoemsGinn & Company, 1896 - 302 Seiten |
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Ergebnisse 1-5 von 24
Seite 2
... hast never known , The weariness , the fever , and the fret Here , where men sit and hear each other groan ; Where palsy shakes a few , sad , last gray hairs , Where youth grows pale , and spectre - thin , and dies ; Where but to think ...
... hast never known , The weariness , the fever , and the fret Here , where men sit and hear each other groan ; Where palsy shakes a few , sad , last gray hairs , Where youth grows pale , and spectre - thin , and dies ; Where but to think ...
Seite 4
... 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 ! 15 20 3 . Ah , happy , happy boughs ! that 4 ON A GRECIAN URN . III.
... 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 ! 15 20 3 . Ah , happy , happy boughs ! that 4 ON A GRECIAN URN . III.
Seite 6
... loveliest vision far Of all Olympus ' faded hierarchy ! Fairer than Phoebe's sapphire - region'à star , Or Vesper , amorous glow - worm of the sky ; 50 5 ΤΟ 15 20 25 Fairer than these , though temple thou hast none , 6 TO PSYCHE . IV.
... loveliest vision far Of all Olympus ' faded hierarchy ! Fairer than Phoebe's sapphire - region'à star , Or Vesper , amorous glow - worm of the sky ; 50 5 ΤΟ 15 20 25 Fairer than these , though temple thou hast none , 6 TO PSYCHE . IV.
Seite 7
John Keats Arlo Bates. Fairer than these , though temple thou hast none , Nor altar heap'd with flowers ; Nor virgin - choir to make delicious moan 30 Upon the midnight hours ; No voice , no lute , no pipe , no incense sweet From chain ...
John Keats Arlo Bates. Fairer than these , though temple thou hast none , Nor altar heap'd with flowers ; Nor virgin - choir to make delicious moan 30 Upon the midnight hours ; No voice , no lute , no pipe , no incense sweet From chain ...
Seite 9
... 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 ...
... 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 ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
९९ adieu Æschylus Bacchus beauty behold beneath bliss bower breath bright Carian Charles Cowden Clarke 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 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 pain pale pass'd passion pleasant poem poet poetry 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 tender thee thine things thou art thou hast thought trees trembling vex'd voice weep whisper wide wild wind wings wonder young youth ΙΟ
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 5 - O 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 55 - And there she lulled me asleep And there I dream'd — Ah! woe betide! The latest dream I ever dream'd On the cold hill side. 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 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...
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 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 272 - Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast, As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon; Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, And on her silver cross soft amethyst, And on her hair a glory, like a saint: She seem'da splendid angel, newly drest, Save wings, for heaven: Porphyro grew faint: She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.
Seite 276 - The blisses of her dream so pure and deep At which fair Madeline began to weep, And moan forth witless words with many a sigh; While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep; Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye, Fearing to move or speak, she look'd so dreamingly. XXXV 'Ah, Porphyro!
Seite 4 - Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave 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!
Seite 2 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet...
Seite 10 - 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...