John Keats, Volumen2

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J. Cape, 1925

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Página 246 - She dwells with Beauty— Beauty that must die; And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips Bidding adieu...
Página 334 - Who hath not seen Thee oft amid thy store ? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor...
Página 376 - This living hand, now warm and capable Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold And in the icy silence of the tomb, So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights That thou wouldst wish thine own heart dry of blood So in my veins red life might stream again And thou be conscience-calm'd — See here it is — I hold it towards you.
Página 170 - The silver, snarling trumpets "gan to chide: The level chambers, ready with their pride, Were glowing to receive a thousand guests: The carved angels, ever eager-eyed, Star'd, where upon their heads the cornice rests, With hair blown back, and wings put cross-wise on their breasts.
Página 255 - Forlorn! the very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self.
Página 577 - What first inspired a bard of old to sing Narcissus pining o'er the untainted spring ? In some delicious ramble, he had found A little space, with boughs all woven round ; And in the midst of all, a clearer pool Than e'er reflected in its pleasant cool The blue sky, here and there serenely peeping, Through tendril wreaths fantastically creeping.
Página 252 - Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn ; The same that oft-times hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
Página 178 - A Man's life of any worth is a continual allegory, and very few eyes can see the Mystery of his life — a life like the scriptures, figurative — which such people can no more make out than they can the Hebrew Bible.
Página 198 - WHY did I laugh to-night ? No voice will tell; No God, no Demon of severe response, Deigns to reply from Heaven or from Hell: Then to my human heart I turn at once. Heart ! Thou and I are here sad and alone...
Página 231 - The common cognomen of this world among the misguided and superstitious is "a vale of tears " from which we are to be redeemed by a certain arbitrary interposition of God and taken to Heaven. What a little circumscribed straightened [sic] notion ! Call the world if you please "The vale of Soul-making.

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