Comentarios de la gente - Escribir un comentario
No encontramos ningún comentario en los lugares habituales.
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
admirably afterwards already appeared attempt Bailey beauty beginning brother Brown called character charm Clarke close continued criticism death delight early effect Endymion English expression eyes feel friends genius George give Greek Hampstead hand Haydon heart hope Houghton human Hunt's imagination interest Italy John Keats Keats's keep kind later Leigh Hunt less letter lines literature living London look meaning mind months nature never once opening partly passage passing passion person piece poem poet poetic poetry present published Reynolds rhyme says seems sense Severn Shelley sonnet speak spirit spring stanza story summer tell things thought touch true turn verse vision volume walked weakness weeks Wordsworth writes written wrote young
Página 178 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too...
Página 170 - 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.
Página 177 - 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'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.
Página 219 - But to her heart, her heart was voluble, Paining with eloquence her balmy side; As though a tongueless nightingale should swell Her throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled, in her dell.
Página 30 - Or roll the planets through the boundless sky. Some less refined, beneath the moon's pale light Pursue the stars that shoot athwart the night, Or suck the mists in grosser air below, Or dip their pinions in the painted bow, Or brew fierce tempests on the wintry main, Or o'er the glebe distil the kindly rain.
Página 177 - Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness ! Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun ; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core...
Página 173 - 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.
Página 173 - What little town by river or sea shore, Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel, Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn? And, little town, thy streets for evermore Will silent be; and not a soul to tell Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.
Página 60 - What though I am not wealthy in the dower Of spanning wisdom ; though I do not know The shiftings of the mighty winds that blow Hither and thither all the changing thoughts Of man : though no great minist'ring reason sorts Out the dark mysteries of human souls To clear conceiving : yet there ever rolls A vast idea before me, and I glean Therefrom my liberty ; thence too I've seen The end and aim of Poesy.