The Complete Poetical Works of John KeatsHoughton, Mifflin, 1900 - Всего страниц: 473 |
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Стр. 2
... pain's to die . How strange it is that man on earth should roam , And lead a life of woe , but not forsake His rugged path ; nor dare he view alone His future doom , which is but to awake . TO CHATTERTON O CHATTERTON ! how very sad thy ...
... pain's to die . How strange it is that man on earth should roam , And lead a life of woe , but not forsake His rugged path ; nor dare he view alone His future doom , which is but to awake . TO CHATTERTON O CHATTERTON ! how very sad thy ...
Стр. 3
... fancies ; Without that modest softening that enhances The downcast eye , repentant of the pain That its mild light creates to heal again : E'en WOMAN ! WHEN I BEHOLD THEE 3 TO BYRON PAGE 'WOMAN! WHEN I BEHOLD THEE FLIPPANT, VAIN'
... fancies ; Without that modest softening that enhances The downcast eye , repentant of the pain That its mild light creates to heal again : E'en WOMAN ! WHEN I BEHOLD THEE 3 TO BYRON PAGE 'WOMAN! WHEN I BEHOLD THEE FLIPPANT, VAIN'
Стр. 7
... pain . This canopy mark : ' t is the work of a fay ; Beneath its rich shade did King Oberon languish , When lovely Titania was far , far away , And cruelly left him to sorrow , and anguish . There , oft would he bring from his soft ...
... pain . This canopy mark : ' t is the work of a fay ; Beneath its rich shade did King Oberon languish , When lovely Titania was far , far away , And cruelly left him to sorrow , and anguish . There , oft would he bring from his soft ...
Стр. 9
... pain , From cruel parents , or relentless fair ; O let me think it is not quite in vain To sigh out sonnets to the midnight air ! Sweet Hope , ethereal balm upon me shed , And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head . In the long vista of ...
... pain , From cruel parents , or relentless fair ; O let me think it is not quite in vain To sigh out sonnets to the midnight air ! Sweet Hope , ethereal balm upon me shed , And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head . In the long vista of ...
Стр. 27
... pain . 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 160 Than e'er ...
... pain . 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 160 Than e'er ...
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THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF JOHN KEATS: Ode on a Grecian Urn, Ode to a ... John Keats Ограниченный просмотр - 2023 |
THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS OF JOHN KEATS: Ode on a Grecian Urn, Ode to a ... John Keats Ограниченный просмотр - 2023 |
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
adieu Albert Apollo art thou Auranthe beauty BEN NEVIS bliss breath bright brow censer clouds cold Conrad Corinth dark death deep divine dost doth dream earth Emperor Enceladus Endymion Erminia Ethelbert Exeunt eyes face faery faint fair fear feel feet flowers gentle Gersa Glocester golden Gonfred green hair hand happy hast hath head hear heard heart heaven hour Hyperion Imaus kiss lady Lamia leaves light lips look look'd Lord Ludolph lute Lycius lyre melody Mnemosyne moan moon morn mortal Muse Naiad never night nymph o'er Otho pain pale pass'd poor Prince round Saturn seem'd shade sigh Sigifred silent silver sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spirit stars stept stood sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thought tongue touch'd trembling vex'd voice warm weep whisper wild wind wine wings wonder
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Стр. 67 - 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!
Стр. 251 - 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...
Стр. 241 - She found me roots of relish sweet, And honey wild, and manna dew ; And sure in language strange she said,
Стр. 377 - 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; 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. 221 - She dwells with Beauty - Beauty that must die; And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh, Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips: Ay, in the very temple of Delight Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine, Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine; His soul shall taste the sadness of her might, And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
Стр. 235 - Who are these coming to the sacrifice? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
Стр. 235 - 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: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, "Beauty is truth, truth beauty," — that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Стр. 220 - 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 soft hand, and let her rave, And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.
Стр. 221 - 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. 252 - 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...