The Poetical Works of John KeatsEdward Moxon & Company, Dover street., 1863 - 301 Seiten |
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Seite 72
... lyre To seas Ionian and Tyrian . O did he ever live , that lonely man , Who loved and music slew not ? ' Tis the pest Of love , that fairest joys give most unrest ; That things of delicate and tenderest worth Are swallow'd all , and ...
... lyre To seas Ionian and Tyrian . O did he ever live , that lonely man , Who loved and music slew not ? ' Tis the pest Of love , that fairest joys give most unrest ; That things of delicate and tenderest worth Are swallow'd all , and ...
Seite 74
... lyre , touch'd the strings , Muffling to death the pathos with his wings ; And , ever and anon , uprose to look At the youth's slumber ; while another took A willow bough , distilling odorous dew , And shook it on his hair ; another ...
... lyre , touch'd the strings , Muffling to death the pathos with his wings ; And , ever and anon , uprose to look At the youth's slumber ; while another took A willow bough , distilling odorous dew , And shook it on his hair ; another ...
Seite 75
... lyre ; And thus : " I need not any hearing tire By telling how the sea - born goddess pined For a mortal youth , and how she strove to bind Him all in all unto her doating self . Who would not be so prison'd ? but , fond elf , He was ...
... lyre ; And thus : " I need not any hearing tire By telling how the sea - born goddess pined For a mortal youth , and how she strove to bind Him all in all unto her doating self . Who would not be so prison'd ? but , fond elf , He was ...
Seite 86
... lyre of his soul Æolian tuned Forgot all violence , and but communed With melancholy thought : O he had swoon'd Drunken from pleasure's nipple ! and his love Henceforth was dove - like . Loth was he to move From the imprinted couch ...
... lyre of his soul Æolian tuned Forgot all violence , and but communed With melancholy thought : O he had swoon'd Drunken from pleasure's nipple ! and his love Henceforth was dove - like . Loth was he to move From the imprinted couch ...
Seite 102
... lyre , And over it a sighing voice expire . It ceased-- I caught light footsteps ; and anon The fairest face that morn e'er look'd upon Push'd through a screen of roses . Starry Jove ! With tears , and smiles , and honey - words she ...
... lyre , And over it a sighing voice expire . It ceased-- I caught light footsteps ; and anon The fairest face that morn e'er look'd upon Push'd through a screen of roses . Starry Jove ! With tears , and smiles , and honey - words she ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Adieu Apollo art thou beauty beneath Beneath the silence bliss blue bower breast breath bright buds censer CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE clouds Corinth dark dear delight divine dost doth dream Dryad e'er earth ELGIN MARBLES Elysium Endymion eyes face fair fancy feel flowers forest gentle golden Gondibert gone green hair hand happy head heart heaven Keats kiss Lamia leaves light lips look lute Lycius lyre melodies Mermaid Tavern morning mortal Muse Naiad never night nymphs o'er pain pale pinions pleasant pleasure poesy poet rills ring-doves rose round Saturn seem'd shade sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spirit stars stept stood strange streams sweet tears tell tender thee thine things thou art thou hast thought trees trembling twas voice warm weep whence whispering wild wind wings wonders young youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 265 - 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 redbreast whistles from a garden-croft, And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
Seite 189 - St Agnes' Eve — Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold ; The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass, And silent was the flock in woolly fold : Numb were the Beadsman's fingers, while he told His rosary, and while his frosted breath, Like pious incense from a censer old, Seem'd taking flight for heaven, without a death, Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith...
Seite 266 - She dwells with Beauty — Beauty that must die; And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh, Turning to Poison while the bee-mouth sips: Ay, in the very temple of delight Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine...
Seite 35 - 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 256 - Forlorn ! the very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self! Adieu ! the fancy cannot cheat so well 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 ? ODE ON A GRECIAN URN.
Seite 199 - 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 16 - And strength by limping sway disabled, And art made tongue-tied by authority...
Seite 348 - I behold, upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!
Seite 167 - 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 264 - 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.