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The Poetical Works of John Keats Given from His Own Editions and ..., Volym 3
Obegränsad förhandsgranskning - 1891
arms beauty bliss breath bright close clouds cold dark dead death deep delight divine doth dream earth eyes face faded fair fear feel feet fire flowers forest give gloom Gods golden gone green hair hand happy hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hour keep leaves light lips live look Lycius melody moan moon morn mortal never night once pain pale pass pleasure poor rest rose round Saturn Save shade shadow sick side sigh silent silver sing sleep soft song SONNET sorrow soul sound space speak Spirit stars steps stood summer sweet tears tell thee thine thing thou thou art thought took touch trees turn voice warm weep wide wild winds wings young
Sida 284 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too...
Sida 272 - Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal — yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; And, happy melodist, unwearied, For ever piping songs for ever new; More happy love!
Sida 270 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet...
Sida 261 - Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed, Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees, In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed, But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled.
Sida 226 - Do not all charms fly At the mere touch of cold philosophy? There was an awful rainbow once in heaven: We know her woof, her texture; she is given In the dull catalogue of common things. Philosophy will clip an Angel's wings, Conquer all mysteries by rule and line, Empty the haunted air, and gnomed mine — Unweave a rainbow, as it erewhile made The tender-person'd Lamia melt into a shade.
Sida 273 - 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...
Sida 271 - 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 Charmed magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas in faery lands forlorn.
Sida 284 - Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store ? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind...