The Letters and Poems of John Keats, Объемы 2-3Dodd, Mead, 1883 |
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Стр. 3
... happy , happy dove ? His Psyche true ! O latest - born and loveliest vision far Of all Olympus ' faded hierarchy ! Fairer than Phoebe's sapphire - region'd star , Or Vesper , amorous glow - worm of the sky ; Fairer than these , though ...
... happy , happy dove ? His Psyche true ! O latest - born and loveliest vision far Of all Olympus ' faded hierarchy ! Fairer than Phoebe's sapphire - region'd star , Or Vesper , amorous glow - worm of the sky ; Fairer than these , though ...
Стр. 8
... happy lot , But being too happy in thy happiness , ― That thou , light - winged Dryad of the trees , In some melodious plot Of beechen green , and shadows numberless , Singest of summer in full - throated ease . O for a draught of ...
... happy lot , But being too happy in thy happiness , ― That thou , light - winged Dryad of the trees , In some melodious plot Of beechen green , and shadows numberless , Singest of summer in full - throated ease . O for a draught of ...
Стр. 11
... 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 ! more happy , happy love ! For ever warm and still to be ...
... 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 ! more happy , happy love ! For ever warm and still to be ...
Стр. 22
... happy men ; More dismal cares Seize on me unawares , ― Where shall I learn to get my peace again ? To banish thoughts of that most hateful land , Dungeoner of my friends , that wicked strand Where they were wreck'd and lived a wrecked ...
... happy men ; More dismal cares Seize on me unawares , ― Where shall I learn to get my peace again ? To banish thoughts of that most hateful land , Dungeoner of my friends , that wicked strand Where they were wreck'd and lived a wrecked ...
Стр. 38
... happy days , or else to die ; But there is crime - a brother's bloody knife ! Sweet Spirit , thou hast school'd my infancy : I'll visit thee for this , and kiss thine eyes , And greet thee morn and even in the skies . " XLIII . When the ...
... happy days , or else to die ; But there is crime - a brother's bloody knife ! Sweet Spirit , thou hast school'd my infancy : I'll visit thee for this , and kiss thine eyes , And greet thee morn and even in the skies . " XLIII . When the ...
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abbot aching adieu ALBERT reading arms Auranthe beauty Bertha breath bright brow Captain Castle censer CHARLES BROWN clouds Conrad Corinth dark death deep door doth dream Duke ears earth Emperor Empress Maud Enceladus Enter ALBERT Enter GERSA Enter LUDOLPH Erminia Ethelbert Exeunt Exit eyes face fair fair lady Farewell father fear feet flowers fool gentle Glocester golden Gonfred hand happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven Henry the Fowler honour hour Hungarian Hyperion Imaus King lady Lamia lips look look'd lord Lycius moan morn mortal noble o'er Otho pain pale pass'd Physician pity poor Prince prythee Saturn SCENE seem'd shade Sigifred silent sire sleep soft sorrow soul spirit stars Stephen sweet sword tears tell thee thine thou art thought to-day tongue touch'd trembling turn'd twas vext voice weep whisper wine wings words
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Стр. 10 - Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain...
Стр. 91 - ST. AGNES' Eve — Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass, And silent was the flock in woolly fold: Numb were the Beadsman's fingers, while he told His rosary, and while his frosted breath, Like pious incense from a censer old, Seem'd taking flight for heaven, without a death, Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith.
Стр. 5 - Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor, Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers...
Стр. 8 - My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: "Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness, — That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
Стр. 9 - 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...
Стр. 100 - 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: She seem'da splendid angel, newly drest, Save wings, for heaven: Porphyro grew faint: She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.
Стр. 7 - By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine; Make not your rosary of yew-berries, Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl A partner in your sorrow's mysteries; For shade to shade will come too drowsily, And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.
Стр. 102 - And now, my love, my seraph fair, awake ! "Thou art my heaven, and I thine eremite: " Open thine eyes, for meek St. Agnes' sake, "Or I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth ache.
Стр. 105 - She hurried at his words, beset with fears For there were sleeping dragons all around, At glaring watch, perhaps, with ready spears — Down the wide stairs a darkling way they found, In all the house was heard no human sound. A...
Стр. 103 - The blisses of her dream so pure and deep. At which fair Madeline began to weep, And moan forth witless words with many a sigh ; While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep ; Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye, Fearing to move or speak, she look'd so dreamingly.