The Poetical Works of John Keats. In Two Parts, Части 1-2Wiley & Putnam, 1846 |
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Стр. 10
... breast , half bare , Was hung a silver bugle , and between His nervy knees there lay a boar - spear keen . A smile was on his countenance ; he seem'd To common lookers - on , like one who dream'd Of idleness in groves Elysian : But ...
... breast , half bare , Was hung a silver bugle , and between His nervy knees there lay a boar - spear keen . A smile was on his countenance ; he seem'd To common lookers - on , like one who dream'd Of idleness in groves Elysian : But ...
Стр. 22
... breast Of secret grief , here in this bowery nest . " This river does not see the naked sky , Till it begins to progress silverly Around the western border of the wood , Whence , from a certain spot , its winding flood Seems at the ...
... breast Of secret grief , here in this bowery nest . " This river does not see the naked sky , Till it begins to progress silverly Around the western border of the wood , Whence , from a certain spot , its winding flood Seems at the ...
Стр. 34
... breast ; - ' t was even then , Straying about , yet , coop'd up in the den Of helpless discontent , -hurling my lance From place to place , and following at chance , At last , by hap , through some young trees it struck , And , plashing ...
... breast ; - ' t was even then , Straying about , yet , coop'd up in the den Of helpless discontent , -hurling my lance From place to place , and following at chance , At last , by hap , through some young trees it struck , And , plashing ...
Стр. 40
... breast In the fountain's pebbly margin , and she stood . ' Mong lilies , like the youngest of the brood . To him her dripping hand she softly kist , And anxiously began to plait and twist Her ringlets round her fingers , saying ...
... breast In the fountain's pebbly margin , and she stood . ' Mong lilies , like the youngest of the brood . To him her dripping hand she softly kist , And anxiously began to plait and twist Her ringlets round her fingers , saying ...
Стр. 47
... breast there lives a choking flame— O let me cool it among the zephyr - boughs ! A homeward fever parches up my tongue- O let me slake it at the running springs ! Upon my ear a noisy nothing rings— O let me once more hear the linnet's ...
... breast there lives a choking flame— O let me cool it among the zephyr - boughs ! A homeward fever parches up my tongue- O let me slake it at the running springs ! Upon my ear a noisy nothing rings— O let me once more hear the linnet's ...
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adieu Apollo Arethusa Art thou Bacchus beauty beneath bliss blue bower breast breath bright Carian censer chidden clouds dark deep delight divine dost doth dream earth Elysium Enceladus Endymion eyes face faint fair fear feel flowers forehead forest gentle golden green grief hair hand happy head heart heaven Hermes hour Hyperion immortal JOHN KEATS kiss Lamia leaves light lips lone lute Lycius lyre melodies moon morning mortal mossy Muse Naiad never night nymph o'er pain pale pass'd Phorcus pinions pleasant pleasure rill ringdove rose round Saturn Satyrs Scylla seem'd shade sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spake spirit stars stept stood strange stream sweet tears tell tender thee thine things thou art thou hast thought trees trembling Vex'd voice warm weep whence whispering wide wild wind wings wonders young youth
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Стр. 104 - 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; But here there is no light Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
Стр. 114 - And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core ; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel ; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.
Стр. 107 - 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. 109 - And in the midst of this wide quietness A rosy sanctuary will I dress With the wreath'd trellis of a working brain, With buds, and bells, and stars without a name, With all the gardener Fancy e'er could feign, Who breeding flowers, will never breed the same: And there shall be for thee all soft delight That shadowy thought can win, A bright torch, and a casement ope at night, To let the warm Love in ! FANCY.
Стр. 38 - Give me that voice again, my Porphyro, Those looks immortal, those complainings dear! Oh leave me not in this eternal woe, For if thou diest, my Love, I know not where to go.
Стр. 64 - Or shall the tree be envious of the dove Because it cooeth, and hath snowy wings To wander wherewithal and find its joys ? We are such forest-trees, and our fair boughs Have bred forth, not pale solitary doves, But eagles golden-feather'd, who do tower Above us in their beauty, and must reign In right thereof; for 'tis the eternal law That first in beauty should be first in might : Yea, by that law, another race may drive Our conquerors to mourn as we do now.
Стр. 115 - While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; Then in a wailful choir, the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft, And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
Стр. 33 - Which was, to lead him, in close secrecy, Even to Madeline's chamber, and there hide Him in a closet, of such privacy...
Стр. 129 - Sup and bowse from horn and can. I have heard that on a day Mine host's sign-board flew away Nobody knew whither, till An astrologer's old quill To a sheepskin gave the story — Said he saw you in your glory...
Стр. 110 - Ceres' daughter, Ere the God of Torment taught her How to frown and how to chide; With a waist and with a side White as Hebe's, when her zone...