PoemsGinn, 1896 - 302 Seiten |
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Seite xxiii
... were common alike to the Greeks and to the greatest Elizabethans were sufficiently marked in our poet to excuse the adoption of the convenient phrase even by those who look deeper than the superficial INTRODUCTION . xxiii.
... were common alike to the Greeks and to the greatest Elizabethans were sufficiently marked in our poet to excuse the adoption of the convenient phrase even by those who look deeper than the superficial INTRODUCTION . xxiii.
Seite xxiv
John Keats Arlo Bates. phrase even by those who look deeper than the superficial form . Yet it is not Greek but Elizabethan that we must call Keats , if he is to be classified by the aid of a retrospec- tive epithet . There was much in ...
John Keats Arlo Bates. phrase even by those who look deeper than the superficial form . Yet it is not Greek but Elizabethan that we must call Keats , if he is to be classified by the aid of a retrospec- tive epithet . There was much in ...
Seite 9
... look , Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours . 3 . 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 ...
... look , Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours . 3 . 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 ...
Seite 21
... look ; O let me for one moment touch her wrist ; Let me one moment to her breathing list ; And as she leaves me may she often turn Her fair eyes looking through her locks aubùrne . What next ? A tuft of evening primroses , O'er which ...
... look ; O let me for one moment touch her wrist ; Let me one moment to her breathing list ; And as she leaves me may she often turn Her fair eyes looking through her locks aubùrne . What next ? A tuft of evening primroses , O'er which ...
Seite 22
... look into a forest wide , 150 To catch a glimpse of Fawns , and Dryades Coming with softest rustle through the trees ; And garlands woven of flowers wild , and sweet , 155 Upheld on ivory wrists , or sporting feet : Telling us how fair ...
... look into a forest wide , 150 To catch a glimpse of Fawns , and Dryades Coming with softest rustle through the trees ; And garlands woven of flowers wild , and sweet , 155 Upheld on ivory wrists , or sporting feet : Telling us how fair ...
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९९ 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 moon 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 tender thee thine things thou art thou hast thought trees trembling vex'd voice weep whisper wild wind wings wonders words young youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 7 - 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 267 - 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 10 - Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, 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 7 - Who are these coming to the sacrifice? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
Seite 7 - 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 10 - 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 4 - 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 270 - 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 - Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret...
Seite 269 - 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.