The Poetical Works of John Keats: Reprinted from the Original EditionsMacmillan, 1884 - 284 páginas |
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Página 62
... pale , and with an awed face , Among his brothers of the mountain chase . In midst of all , the venerable priest Eyed them with joy from greatest to the least , And , after lifting up his aged hands , 190 Thus spake he : " Men of Latmos ...
... pale , and with an awed face , Among his brothers of the mountain chase . In midst of all , the venerable priest Eyed them with joy from greatest to the least , And , after lifting up his aged hands , 190 Thus spake he : " Men of Latmos ...
Página 70
... pale , who wast so bland And merry in our meadows ? How is this ? Tell me thine ailment : tell me all amiss ! - Ah ! thou hast been unhappy at the change Wrought suddenly in me . What indeed more strange ? Or more complete to overwhelm ...
... pale , who wast so bland And merry in our meadows ? How is this ? Tell me thine ailment : tell me all amiss ! - Ah ! thou hast been unhappy at the change Wrought suddenly in me . What indeed more strange ? Or more complete to overwhelm ...
Página 97
... ! alone - alone- In sombre chariot ; dark foldings thrown About her majesty , and front death - pale , With turrets crown'd . Four maned lions hale 640 H The sluggish wheels ; solemn their toothed maws , Their BOOK II . 97 ENDYMION .
... ! alone - alone- In sombre chariot ; dark foldings thrown About her majesty , and front death - pale , With turrets crown'd . Four maned lions hale 640 H The sluggish wheels ; solemn their toothed maws , Their BOOK II . 97 ENDYMION .
Página 110
... pale For one whose cheek is pale : thou dost bewail His tears , who weeps for thee . Where dost thou sigh ? Ah ! surely that light peeps from Vesper's eye , Or what a thing is love ! ' Tis She , but lo ! How chang'd , how full of ache ...
... pale For one whose cheek is pale : thou dost bewail His tears , who weeps for thee . Where dost thou sigh ? Ah ! surely that light peeps from Vesper's eye , Or what a thing is love ! ' Tis She , but lo ! How chang'd , how full of ache ...
Página 122
... pale laugh , and curse . " Ha ! ha ! Sir Dainty ! there must be a nurse Made of rose leaves and thistledown , express , To cradle thee my sweet , and lull thee : yes , I am too flinty - hard for thy nice touch : My tenderest squeeze is ...
... pale laugh , and curse . " Ha ! ha ! Sir Dainty ! there must be a nurse Made of rose leaves and thistledown , express , To cradle thee my sweet , and lull thee : yes , I am too flinty - hard for thy nice touch : My tenderest squeeze is ...
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Términos y frases comunes
adieu Apollo art thou beauty behold beneath bliss bower breast breath bright Carian clouds Corinth dark deep delight divine dost doth dream earth Elysium Enceladus Endymion eyes face Faerie Queene faint fair fear feel flowers forest gentle Goddess golden green grief hair hand happy hath heard heart heaven Hyperion immortal JOHN KEATS Keats kiss Lamia leaves Leigh Hunt light lips lone lute Lycius lyre melody Mermaid Tavern Mnemosyne morning mortal Muse Naiad never night nymph o'er pain pale pass'd passion Phorcus pleasant pleasure poem Poet rill rose round Saturn Scylla seem'd shade sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spake spirit stars stept stood strange sweet tears tell tender thee thine things thou art thou hast thought touch'd trees trembling twas voice weep wide wild wind wings wonders young youth
Pasajes populares
Página 214 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet...
Página 219 - And in the midst of this wide quietness A rosy sanctuary will I dress With the wreathed 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.
Página 258 - BRIGHT star ! would I were steadfast as thou art — < Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night, And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like Nature's patient sleepless Eremite, The moving waters at their priestlike task Of pure ablution round earth's human shores...
Página 217 - 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...
Página 207 - 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...
Página 216 - Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady ? What men or gods are these ? What maidens loth ? What mad pursuit ? What struggle to escape ? What pipes and timbrels ? What wild ecstasy ? Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; Not to the sensual ear, but more endeared, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone...
Página 215 - 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-fring'd 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? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
Página 212 - And they are gone: ay, ages long ago These lovers fled away into the storm. That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe, And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form Of witch, and demon, and large coffinworm. Were long be-nightmar'd. Angela the old Died palsy-twitch'd, with meagre face deform ; The Beadsman, after thousand aves told, For aye unsought for slept among his ashes cold.
Página 239 - But for the main, here found they covert drear. Scarce images of life, one here, one there, Lay vast and edgeways; like a dismal cirque Of Druid stones, upon a forlorn moor, When the chill rain begins at shut of eve, In dull November, and their chancel vault, The Heaven itself, is blinded throughout night.
Página 215 - 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.