The poetical works of John Keats, ed. by W.B. Scott, Tema 639George Routledge and sons, the Broadway, Ludgate., 1873 - 351 páginas |
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Página 22
... hair ? Not oat - sheaves drooping in the western sun ; # Not - thy soft hand , fair sister ! let me shun Such follying before thee - yet she had , Indeed , locks bright enough to make me mad ; And they were simply gordian'd up and ...
... hair ? Not oat - sheaves drooping in the western sun ; # Not - thy soft hand , fair sister ! let me shun Such follying before thee - yet she had , Indeed , locks bright enough to make me mad ; And they were simply gordian'd up and ...
Página 34
... kisses , or light noise Of thy combing hand , the while it travelling cloys And trembles through my labyrinthine hair . ' At that oppress'd , I hurried in . Ah ! where Are those swift moments ? Whither are they fled ? 34 Endymion .
... kisses , or light noise Of thy combing hand , the while it travelling cloys And trembles through my labyrinthine hair . ' At that oppress'd , I hurried in . Ah ! where Are those swift moments ? Whither are they fled ? 34 Endymion .
Página 50
... hair ; another flew In through the woven roof , and fluttering - wise Rain'd violets upon his sleeping eyes . At these enchantments , and yet many more , The breathless Latmian wonder'd o'er and o'er ; Until impatient in embarrassment ...
... hair ; another flew In through the woven roof , and fluttering - wise Rain'd violets upon his sleeping eyes . At these enchantments , and yet many more , The breathless Latmian wonder'd o'er and o'er ; Until impatient in embarrassment ...
Página 59
... hair'd daughters ? Or art , impossible ! a nymph of Dian's , Weaving a coronal of tender scions For very idleness ? Where'er thou art , Methinks it now is at my will to start Into thine arms ; to scare Aurora's train , And snatch thee ...
... hair'd daughters ? Or art , impossible ! a nymph of Dian's , Weaving a coronal of tender scions For very idleness ? Where'er thou art , Methinks it now is at my will to start Into thine arms ; to scare Aurora's train , And snatch thee ...
Página 63
... hair uptying With fingers cool as aspen leaves . Sweet love ! I was as vague as solitary dove , Now a soft kiss- Nor knew that nests were built . Ay , by that kiss , I vow an endless bliss , An immortality of passion's thine : Ere long ...
... hair uptying With fingers cool as aspen leaves . Sweet love ! I was as vague as solitary dove , Now a soft kiss- Nor knew that nests were built . Ay , by that kiss , I vow an endless bliss , An immortality of passion's thine : Ere long ...
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Términos y frases comunes
adieu Apollo Arethusa art thou Bacchus beauty beneath bliss blue bower breast breath bright Carian censer chidden clouds cold cool Corinth dark death deep delight divine dost doth dream ears earth Elysium Enceladus Endymion eyes face faint fair fear feel flowers forest gentle Goddess golden green grief hair hand happy head heart heaven Hermes Hyperion immortal John Keats Keats kiss Lamia leaves Leigh Hunt light lips lute Lycius lyre melodies moon morning mortal mossy muse Naiad never night nymph o'er pain pale pass'd passion pinions pleasant rill rose round Saturn Scylla seem'd shade sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft sorrow soul spake spirit stars stept stood strange sweet tears tell tender thee thine things thou art thou hast thought touch'd trees trembling twas voice warm weep whence whisper wild wind wings wonder young youth
Pasajes populares
Página 318 - Homer ruled as his demesne : Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He...
Página 273 - Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hillside; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: — Do I wake or sleep?
Página 272 - 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, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy!
Página 279 - And in the midst of this wide quietness A rosy sanctuary will I dress With the wreathed 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.
Página 275 - Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss. Though winning near the goal — yet do not grieve: She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss; For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! Ah, 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!
Página 269 - 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.
Página 321 - To one who has been long in city pent, 'Tis very sweet to look into the fair And open face of heaven, — to breathe a prayer Full in the smile of the blue firmament.
Página 191 - As, supperless to bed they must retire, And couch supine their beauties, lily white; Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire.
Página 2 - Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake, Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms: And such too is the grandeur of the dooms We have imagined for the mighty dead; All lovely tales that we have heard or read: An endless fountain of immortal drink, Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.
Página 204 - And they are gone: ay, ages long ago These lovers fled away into the storm. That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe, And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form Of witch, and demon, and large coffinworm. Were long be-nightmar'd. Angela the old Died palsy-twitch'd, with meagre face deform ; The Beadsman, after thousand aves told, For aye unsought for slept among his ashes cold.