The Poetical Works of John Keats: Chronologically Arranged and Edited, with a MemoirBell, 1914 - 498 pagini |
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Pagina 18
... kiss , What gentle squeeze he gave each lady's hand ! How tremblingly their delicate ankles spann'd ! Into how sweet a trance his soul was gone , While whisperings of affection Made him delay to let their tender feet Come to the earth ...
... kiss , What gentle squeeze he gave each lady's hand ! How tremblingly their delicate ankles spann'd ! Into how sweet a trance his soul was gone , While whisperings of affection Made him delay to let their tender feet Come to the earth ...
Pagina 20
... kiss , And had such manly ardour in his eye , That each at other look'd half - staringly : And then their features started into smiles , Sweet as blue heavens o'er enchanted isles .. Softly the breezes from the forest came , Softly they ...
... kiss , And had such manly ardour in his eye , That each at other look'd half - staringly : And then their features started into smiles , Sweet as blue heavens o'er enchanted isles .. Softly the breezes from the forest came , Softly they ...
Pagina 23
... has lately strung ; And when again your dewiness he kisses , Tell him , I have you in my world of blisses : So haply when I rove in some far vale , His mighty voice may come upon the gale . Here are sweet peas , on tiptoe for a flight 23.
... has lately strung ; And when again your dewiness he kisses , Tell him , I have you in my world of blisses : So haply when I rove in some far vale , His mighty voice may come upon the gale . Here are sweet peas , on tiptoe for a flight 23.
Pagina 29
... kiss , and stare , And on their placid foreheads part the hair . Young men and maidens at each other gazed , With ... kisses : Was there a poet born ? -But now no more— My wandering spirit must no farther soar . S SLEEP AND POETRY . ' As ...
... kiss , and stare , And on their placid foreheads part the hair . Young men and maidens at each other gazed , With ... kisses : Was there a poet born ? -But now no more— My wandering spirit must no farther soar . S SLEEP AND POETRY . ' As ...
Pagina 32
... and strawberries , And choose each pleasure that my fancy sees ; Catch the white - handed nymphs in shady places . To woo sweet kisses from averted faces , - Play with their fingers , touch their shoulders white ? Vivel in.
... and strawberries , And choose each pleasure that my fancy sees ; Catch the white - handed nymphs in shady places . To woo sweet kisses from averted faces , - Play with their fingers , touch their shoulders white ? Vivel in.
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Termeni și expresii frecvente
adieu Albert Apollo Art thou Auranthe beauty beneath bliss bower breast breath bright CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE clouds Conrad cool dark death delight divine dost doth dream ears earth Endymion Erminia Ethelbert eyes face faint fair fear feel flowers forest gentle Gersa Glocester golden green grief hand happy hast hear heart heaven hour JOHN KEATS Keats kiss lady Lamia leaves LEIGH HUNT light lips look look'd Ludolph lute lyre melody moon morning mortal Naiad never night nymphs o'er Otho pain pale pass'd pinions pleasant poesy poet rill ring-dove round Saturn seem'd shade sigh Sigifred silent silver sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spirit stars strange sweet tears TEIGNMOUTH tell tender thee thine things THOMAS CHATTERTON thou art thought trees trembling twas vex'd voice warm weep Whence whispering wild wind wings wonder young youth
Pasaje populare
Pagina 240 - 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?
Pagina 241 - Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel, Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn? And, little town, thy streets for evermore Will silent be; and not a soul to tell Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.
Pagina 235 - 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...
Pagina 238 - O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim...
Pagina 73 - ... Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain, Before high-piled books, in charact'ry Hold like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain; When 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!
Pagina 71 - My spirit is too weak— mortality Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep, And each imagined pinnacle and steep Of godlike hardship tells me I must die Like a sick eagle looking at the sky. Yet 'tis a gentle luxury to weep That I have not the cloudy winds to keep, Fresh for the opening of the morning's eye.
Pagina 234 - 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.
Pagina 312 - Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor. But no — already had his death-bell rung; The joys of all his life were said and sung; His was harsh penance on St Agnes...
Pagina 325 - With a huge empty flagon by his side : The wakeful bloodhound rose, and shook his hide, 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. And they are gone : ay, ages long ago These lovers fled away into the storm.
Pagina 239 - 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, and the fruit-tree wild...