The Poetical Works of John Keats: With a LifeLittle, Brown. Shepard, Clark and Brown, 1859 - 438 pagini |
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Pagina 11
... breast , half bare , Was hung a silver bugle , and between His nervy knees there lay a boar - spear keen . A smile was on his countenance ; he seem'd To common lookers - on like one who dream'd Of idleness in groves Elysian : But there ...
... breast , half bare , Was hung a silver bugle , and between His nervy knees there lay a boar - spear keen . A smile was on his countenance ; he seem'd To common lookers - on like one who dream'd Of idleness in groves Elysian : But there ...
Pagina 24
... breast Of secret grief , here in this bowery nest . " This river does not see the naked sky , Till it begins to progress silverly Around the western border of the wood , Whence , from a certain spot , its winding flood Seems at the ...
... breast Of secret grief , here in this bowery nest . " This river does not see the naked sky , Till it begins to progress silverly Around the western border of the wood , Whence , from a certain spot , its winding flood Seems at the ...
Pagina 38
... breast ; - ' twas even then , Straying about , yet coop'd up in the den Of helpless discontent , hurling my lance From place to place , and following at chance , At last , by hap , through some young trees it struck , And , plashing ...
... breast ; - ' twas even then , Straying about , yet coop'd up in the den Of helpless discontent , hurling my lance From place to place , and following at chance , At last , by hap , through some young trees it struck , And , plashing ...
Pagina 44
... , disturb'd his gloomy rest ? It was a nymph uprisen to the breast In the fountain's pebbly margin , and she stood ' Mong lilies , like the youngest of the brood . To him her dripping hand she softly kist , And 44 ENDYMION .
... , disturb'd his gloomy rest ? It was a nymph uprisen to the breast In the fountain's pebbly margin , and she stood ' Mong lilies , like the youngest of the brood . To him her dripping hand she softly kist , And 44 ENDYMION .
Pagina 52
... breast there lives a choking flame- O let me cool it zephyr - boughs among ! A homeward fever parches up my tongue- O let me slake it at the running springs ! Upon my ear a noisy nothing rings- O let me once more hear the linnet's note ...
... breast there lives a choking flame- O let me cool it zephyr - boughs among ! A homeward fever parches up my tongue- O let me slake it at the running springs ! Upon my ear a noisy nothing rings- O let me once more hear the linnet's note ...
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Termeni și expresii frecvente
Adieu Apollo Arethusa art thou Bacchus beauty beneath bliss blue bower breast breath bright Carian CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE cheek chidden clouds Corinth dark death deep delight divine dost doth dream earth Elysium Enceladus Endymion eyes face faint fair fear feel flowers forest gentle golden green grief hair hand happy head heart heaven Hermes Hyperion Keats kiss Lamia leaves light lips lone look lute Lycius lyre melodies moon morning mortal Muse Naiad never night nymph o'er once pain pale pass'd passion pleasant pleasure poet rill ring-dove rose round Saturn Satyrs Scylla seem'd shade sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spake spirit stars stept stood streams sweet tears tell tender thee thine things thou art thou hast thought trees trembling twas voice warm weep whispering wild wind wings wonders young youth
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Pagina 287 - Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan...
Pagina 197 - Hyena foemen, and hot-blooded lords, Whose very dogs would execrations howl Against his lineage : not one breast affords Him any mercy, in that mansion foul, Save one old beldame, weak in body and in soul.
Pagina 288 - Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain— To thy high requiem become a sod.
Pagina 369 - 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 ix - And strength by limping sway disabled, And art made tongue-tied by authority...
Pagina 302 - 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 390 - 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!
Pagina 202 - Of fruits and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass, And diamonded with panes of quaint device, Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes, As are the tiger-moth's deep-damask'd wings; And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries, And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings, A shielded scutcheon blush 'd with blood of queens and kings.
Pagina 418 - Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask Of snow upon the mountains and the moors: — No — yet still steadfast, still unchangeable, Pillow'd upon my fair Love's ripening breast To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest; Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever, — or else swoon to death.
Pagina 198 - Good Saints! not here, not here; Follow me, child, or else these stones will be thy bier.