The Poetical Works of John Keats |
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Seite xvii
Chatterton eating out his heart in his desolate lodging and ignoble service to low
magazines , or Burns drinking down thought in country taverns and town society
little more refined , afford mournful contrasts to the pleasant and elevating ...
Chatterton eating out his heart in his desolate lodging and ignoble service to low
magazines , or Burns drinking down thought in country taverns and town society
little more refined , afford mournful contrasts to the pleasant and elevating ...
Seite xxix
In a fine fragment too , written about this time , lic spoke of “ Bards who died
content on pleasant sward , Leaving great rerse unto a little clerit . O give me their
old vigour , and unheard , Sare of the quiet Primrose , and the span Of Heaven
and ...
In a fine fragment too , written about this time , lic spoke of “ Bards who died
content on pleasant sward , Leaving great rerse unto a little clerit . O give me their
old vigour , and unheard , Sare of the quiet Primrose , and the span Of Heaven
and ...
Seite 4
The very music of the name has gone Into my being , and each pleasant scene Is
growing fresh before me as the green of our own valleys : so I will begin Now
while I cannot hear the city ' s din ; Now while the early budders are just new ,
And ...
The very music of the name has gone Into my being , and each pleasant scene Is
growing fresh before me as the green of our own valleys : so I will begin Now
while I cannot hear the city ' s din ; Now while the early budders are just new ,
And ...
Seite 5
Paths there were many Winding througlı palmy fern , and rushes fenny , And ivy
banks ; all leading pleasantly To a wide lawn , whence one could only see Stems
thronging all around between the swell Of tuft and slanting branches : who could
...
Paths there were many Winding througlı palmy fern , and rushes fenny , And ivy
banks ; all leading pleasantly To a wide lawn , whence one could only see Stems
thronging all around between the swell Of tuft and slanting branches : who could
...
Seite 16
Make my horn parley from their foreheads hour ' : Again my trooping hounds their
tongues shall loll Around the breathed boar : again I ' ll poll The fair - grown yew -
tree , for a chosen bow : And , when the pleasant sun is getting low , Again I ' ll ...
Make my horn parley from their foreheads hour ' : Again my trooping hounds their
tongues shall loll Around the breathed boar : again I ' ll poll The fair - grown yew -
tree , for a chosen bow : And , when the pleasant sun is getting low , Again I ' ll ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
arms beauty beneath bliss blue breast breath bright clear close clouds cold dark death deep delight doth dream earth Endymion eyes face fair fancy fear feel feet felt flowers forest friends gentle give golden gone green hand happy hast head hear heard heart heaven hour human Keats keep kiss leaves light lips live look mind morning mortal never night o'er once pain pale pass passion pleasant pleasure poet poor rest rose round seen shade side sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft song soon sorrow soul sound spirit stars stood strange streams sure sweet tears tell tender thee thine things thou thought took trees trembling twas voice wide wild wind wings wonders young youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 209 - THOU still unravish'd bride of quietness, Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time, Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady ? What men or gods are these?
Seite 208 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket...
Seite 216 - Of their sorrows and delights ; Of their passions and their spites ; Of their glory and their shame ; What doth strengthen and what maim. Thus ye teach us, every day, Wisdom, though fled far away. Bards of Passion and of Mirth, Ye have left your souls on earth!
Seite 148 - As, supperless to bed they must retire, And couch supine their beauties, lily white; Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire.
Seite 182 - Knowledge enormous makes a God of me. Names, deeds, grey legends, dire events, rebellions, Majesties, sovran voices, agonies, Creations and destroyings, all at once Pour into the wide hollows of my brain, And deify me, as if some blithe wine Or bright elixir peerless I had drunk, And so become immortal...
Seite 215 - Where's the voice, however soft, One would hear so very oft? At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth Like to bubbles when rain pelteth. Let then winged Fancy find Thee a mistress to thy mind: Dulcet-eyed as Ceres' daughter, Ere the God of Torment taught her How to frown and how to chide; With a waist and with a side White as Hebe's, when her zone Slipt its golden clasp, and down Fell her kirtle to her feet, While she held the goblet sweet, And Jove grew languid. — Break the mesh Of the Fancy's silken...
Seite 209 - 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?
Seite 155 - 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.
Seite 157 - But his sagacious eye an inmate owns: By one, and one, the bolts full easy slide: — The chains lie silent on the footworn stones; The key turns, and the door upon its hinges groans. XLII And they are gone: ay, ages long ago 370 These lovers fled away into the storm.
Seite 153 - Half-hidden, like a mermaid in seaweed, Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed, But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled.
Bibliografische Informationen
| Titel | The Poetical Works of John Keats |
| Autor/in | John Keats |
| Verlag | E. Moxon, 1856 |
| Original von | Harvard University |
| Digitalisiert | 15. Febr. 2008 |
| Länge | 256 Seiten |
| Zitat exportieren | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |