Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
Albert Auranthe beautiful BENJAMIN ROBERT HAYDON breath bright Brown Charles Armitage Brown Charles Cowden Clarke clouds Conrad dark DEAR death delight Dilke doth dream ears earth Endymion Erminia Ethelbert eyes fair FANNY FANNY BRAWNE fear feel flowers friend JOHN KEATS gentle George George Keats Gersa give Glocester golden green Hampstead hand happy hast Haydon head hear heard heart heaven hope Hunt JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLDS Keats's kiss lady Lamia leave Letters and Literary light lines lips live look Lord Lord Houghton Ludolph mind morning never night numbers o'er Otho pain pleasant pleasure poem poet poetry poor Reynolds round sigh Sigifred silent sister sleep smile soft song sonnet soul spirit sweet tears Teignmouth tell thee thine thing THOMAS KEATS thou thought trees verses voice walk Wentworth Place wings words write written young
Pàgina 144 - 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...
Pàgina 139 - I saw their starved lips in the gloam With horrid warning gaped wide, And I awoke and found me here On the cold hill's side. And this is why I sojourn here Alone and palely loitering, Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake, And no birds sing.
Pàgina 259 - Alas ! alas ! Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once; And He that might the vantage best have took, Found out the remedy: How would you be, If he, which is the top of judgment, should But judge you as you are? O, think on that; And mercy then will breathe within your lips, Like man new made.
Pàgina 145 - Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret...
Pàgina 135 - 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.
Pàgina 145 - Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
Pàgina 135 - Who are these coming to the sacrifice ? To what green altar, O mysterious priest, Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
Pàgina 49 - Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon, Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon For simple sheep ; and such are daffodils With the green world they live in...