 | Connie Robertson - 1998 - 686 páginas
...brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night. 5500 'Ode to a Nightingale' I rom the stormy blast, And our eternal home. WAUGH Evelyn 1903-1966 12293 Decline and 5501 'Ode to a Nightingale' Now more than ever seems it rich to die. To cease upon the midnight with... | |
 | Timothy Patrick Jackson - 1999 - 268 páginas
...epigraph to Tender from "Ode to a Nightingale": Already with thee! tender is the night . . . . . . But here there is no light, Save what from heaven...blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. Like Keats, Fitzgerald and his fictional creations are aware of the lure of nonentity but do not merely... | |
 | David Bromwich - 1999 - 484 páginas
...as he enters it Keats's impression is that he is dazed, and for the first time must move slowly. I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket,... | |
 | John Keats - 1999 - 260 páginas
[ Lo sentimos, el contenido de esta página está restringido. ] | |
 | Thomas McFarland - 2000 - 268 páginas
...(Keats, Poems, 62: To Charles Cowden Clarke', line 79). Again, in his poem to his brother George I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket,... | |
 | Fiona J. Stafford - 2000 - 378 páginas
[ Lo sentimos, el contenido de esta página está restringido. ] | |
 | Wayne Wilson - 2001 - 312 páginas
[ Lo sentimos, el contenido de esta página está restringido. ] | |
 | Susan J. Wolfson - 2001 - 324 páginas
...of Nature. From a speech later in the same scene there grew a piece of profound verdure in Keats: I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket,... | |
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But here there is no light Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. 1 cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs... 
