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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... "
The Edinburgh magazine, and literary miscellany, a new series of The Scots ... - Página 315
1820
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Hazlitt: The Mind of a Critic

David Bromwich - 1999 - 456 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,...
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The Masks of Keats: The Endeavour of a Poet

Thomas McFarland, Murray Professor of English Literature Emeritus Thomas McFarland - 2000 - 244 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,...
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The Cambridge Companion to Keats

Susan J. Wolfson, Wolfson Susan J. - 2001 - 272 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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The Discovery of Poetry: A Field Guide to Reading and Writing Poems

Frances Mayes - 2001 - 494 páginas
...scent of flowers 378 / THE DISCOVERY OF POETRY hushed, cool rooted flowers, fragrant eyed But here is no light Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown . . . the small warm rain Melts out the frozen incense from all flowers Music's golden tongue the silver...
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The Earliest Wordsworth: Poems, 1785-1790

William Wordsworth - 2002 - 141 páginas
...like the nightingale in Milton's Eden 'Sings darkling'. Other literary nightingales come to mind: 'I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, / Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs'. Keats' poem was three decades in the future, but in both cases the denial of one sense stimulates others,...
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Dictionary of Literature in English

Neil King, Sarah King - 2002 - 189 páginas
...and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth... and later in the poem he describes sight in terms of touch: But here there is no light. Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown... In Spenders "Seascape" (1946) he writes of the sea as "burning music for the eyes." syncope: the reduction...
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Formationer i europæisk romantik

Marie-Louise Svane - 2003 - 286 páginas
...the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Clustered around by all her starry Fays; ßnf there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the...blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways, (v. 3 6-40, min kursivering) Mânedronningen (som Keats digtede om i Endymion og i »I stood tiptoe«)...
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A Companion to the Works of Heinrich Von Kleist

Bernd Fischer - 2003 - 258 páginas
...This richness of sensory experience reminds us of Keats's almost swooning anticipation of death: "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...
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Configuring Romanticism: Essays Offered to C.C. Barfoot

Theo d'. Haen, Theo d' Haen, P. Th. M. G. Liebregts, Wim Tigges, Colin J. Ewen - 2003 - 306 páginas
...endeavour" (11. 5-14). and here the night of May described in Stanza V of Keats's ode becomes relevant: 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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Romantic Generations: Text, Authority and Posterity in British Romanticism

Lene Østermark-Johansen - 2003 - 178 páginas
...nightingale, a desire which seems to be achieved in the sensory deprivation of stanza five when he 'cannot see what flowers are at my feet,/ Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs.' In 'Ode on a Grecian Urn' the rapt contemplation of the urn is itself structured by ignorance ignorance...
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