John Keats, Volumen1

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Houghton Mifflin, 1925
 

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Página 558 - 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!
Página 623 - The imagination of a boy is healthy, and the mature imagination of a man is healthy ; but there is a space of life between, in which the soul is in a ferment, the character undecided, the way of life uncertain, the ambition thick-sighted...
Página 393 - All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea. Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept (As 'twere in scorn of eyes,) reflecting gems, That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
Página 526 - The Imagination may be compared to Adam's dream: he awoke and found it Truth. I am more zealous in this affair, because I have never yet been able to perceive how anything can be known for Truth by consecutive reasoning, and yet it must be so.
Página 360 - I am certain of nothing but of the holiness of the Heart's affections and the truth of Imagination — What the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth — whether it existed before or not...
Página 146 - What next ? a tuft of evening primroses, O'er which the mind may hover till it dozes ; O'er which it well might take a pleasant sleep, But that 'tis ever startled by the leap Of buds into ripe flowers...
Página 224 - The morning precious: beauty was awake! Why were ye not awake? But ye were dead To things ye knew not of, — were closely wed To musty laws lined out with wretched rule And compass vile: so that ye taught a school Of dolts to smoothe, inlay, and clip, and fit, Till, like the certain wands of Jacob's wit, Their verses tallied.
Página 614 - Lost in a sort of Purgatory blind, Cannot refer to any standard law Of either earth or heaven? It is a flaw In happiness, to see beyond our bourn, — It forces us in summer skies to mourn, It spoils the singing of the Nightingale.
Página 77 - O SOLITUDE ! if I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky buildings ; climb with me the steep, — Nature's observatory — whence the dell, Its flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell, May seem a span ; let me thy vigils keep 'Mongst boughs pavilion'd, where the deer's swift leap Startles the wild bee from the fox-glove bell.
Página 310 - Alas ! alas ! Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once; And He that might the vantage best have took, Found out the remedy: How would you be, If he, which is the top of judgment, should But judge you as you are? O, think on that; And mercy then will breathe within your lips, Like man new made.

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