PoemsGinn & Company, 1896 - Всего страниц: 302 |
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Стр. 3
... sing , and I have ears in vain To thy high requiem become a sod . 7 . 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 ...
... sing , and I have ears in vain To thy high requiem become a sod . 7 . 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 ...
Стр. 7
... sing , by my own eyes inspired . So let me be thy choir , and make a moan Upon the midnight hours ; Thy voice , thy lute , thy pipe , thy incense sweet From swinged censer teeming ; Thy shrine , thy grove , thy oracle , thy heat Of pale ...
... sing , by my own eyes inspired . So let me be thy choir , and make a moan Upon the midnight hours ; Thy voice , thy lute , thy pipe , thy incense sweet From swinged censer teeming ; Thy shrine , thy grove , thy oracle , thy heat Of pale ...
Стр. 9
... sing ; and now with treble soft The red - breast whistles from a garden - croft ; And gathering swallows twitter in the skies . ODE ON MELANCHOLY . I. No , no , go not to Lethe , neither twist Wolf's - bane , tight - rooted , for its ...
... sing ; and now with treble soft The red - breast whistles from a garden - croft ; And gathering swallows twitter in the skies . ODE ON MELANCHOLY . I. No , no , go not to Lethe , neither twist Wolf's - bane , tight - rooted , for its ...
Стр. 12
... sing . Oh , sweet Fancy ! let her loose ; Every thing is spoilt by use : Where's the cheek that doth not fade , Too much gaz'd at ? Where's the maid Whose lip mature is ever new ? 70 Where's the eye , however blue , Doth not weary ...
... sing . Oh , sweet Fancy ! let her loose ; Every thing is spoilt by use : Where's the cheek that doth not fade , Too much gaz'd at ? Where's the maid Whose lip mature is ever new ? 70 Where's the eye , however blue , Doth not weary ...
Стр. 14
... sing Not a senseless , tranced thing , But divine melodious truth ; Philosophic numbers smooth ; Tales and golden histories Of heaven and its mysteries . Thus ye live on high , and then On the earth ye live again ; And the souls ye left ...
... sing Not a senseless , tranced thing , But divine melodious truth ; Philosophic numbers smooth ; Tales and golden histories Of heaven and its mysteries . Thus ye live on high , and then On the earth ye live again ; And the souls ye left ...
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९९ Art thou Bacchus beauty behold beneath bliss bower breath bright Carian CHIG clouds cold Corinth dark death deep delight dost doth dream ears earth Enceladus Endymion eyes Faerie Queene faint fair fear feel flowers forest gentle gloom goddess golden green grief hair hand happy heard heart heaven Hermes Hyperion immortal John Keats Keats Keats's kiss Lamia leaves Leigh Hunt light lips lone look'd lute Lycius lyre melody morning mortal Naiad never night nymph o'er Ode to Psyche pain pale pass'd passion Peona pleasant poem poet Porphyro rill rose round Saturn Scylla seem'd shade sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spake spirit stars stept stood sweet tears tell tender thee thine things thou art thou hast thought trees trembling vex'd voice weep whence whisper wild wind wings wonders young youth ΙΟ
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Стр. 2 - Away ! away ! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays...
Стр. 67 - A THING of beauty is a joy for ever : Its loveliness increases ; it will never Pass into nothingness ; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Стр. 1 - 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. 10 - But when the melancholy fit shall fall Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud, That fosters the droop-headed flowers all, And hides the green hill in an April shroud ; Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose, Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave, Or on the wealth of globed peonies ; Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows, Emprison her her soft hand, and let her rave, And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.
Стр. 8 - Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers...
Стр. 276 - 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. XXXV 'Ah, Porphyro!
Стр. 265 - Flattered to tears this aged man and poor; But no — already had his deathbell rung; The joys of all his life were said and sung: His was harsh penance on St. Agnes' Eve: Another way he went, and soon among 25 Rough.
Стр. 191 - Saturn, quiet as a stone, Still as the silence round about his lair; Forest on forest hung about his head Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there, Not so much life as on a summer's day Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass, But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
Стр. 7 - No shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat Of pale-mouth'd prophet dreaming. 0 brightest! though too late for antique vows, Too, too late for the fond believing lyre, When holy were the haunted forest boughs, Holy the air, the water, and the fire...
Стр. 67 - Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon, Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon For simple sheep ; and such are daffodils With the green world they live in...