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Reeves and Turner., 1888 - 92 pàgines
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Passatges populars

Pàgina 80 - Of life, at that sweet time when winds are wooing All vital things that wake to bring News of birds and blossoming, Sudden, thy shadow fell on me ; I shrieked, and clasped my hands in ecstasy ! I vowed that I would dedicate my powers To thee and thine : have I not kept the vow...
Pàgina 73 - Apennine In the south dimly islanded ; And the Alps, whose snows are spread High between the clouds and sun ; And of living things each one ; And my spirit, which so long Darkened this swift stream of song, — Interpenetrated lie By the glory of the sky...
Pàgina 82 - I met a traveller from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read...
Pàgina 81 - That thou, O awful Loveliness, Wouldst give whate'er these words cannot express.
Pàgina 48 - Heardst thou not sweet words among That heaven-resounding minstrelsy ! - Heardst thou not, that those who die Awake in a world of ecstasy ? That love, when limbs are interwoven, And sleep, when the night of life is cloven, And thought, to the world's dim boundaries clinging, And music, when one beloved is singing, Is death ? Let us drain right joyously The cup which the sweet bird fills for me.
Pàgina 64 - On the level quivering line Of the waters crystalline ; And before that chasm of light, As within a furnace bright, Column, tower, and dome, and spire, Shine like obelisks of fire...
Pàgina 71 - In thine halls the lamp of learning, Padua, now no more is burning; Like a meteor whose wild way Is lost over the grave of day, It gleams betrayed and to betray.
Pàgina 69 - Men must reap the things they sow, Force from force must ever flow, Or worse ; but 'tis a bitter woe That love or reason cannot change The despot's rage, the slave's revenge.
Pàgina 82 - Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed : And on the pedestal these words appear : 'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair !
Pàgina 78 - Why fear and dream and death and birth Cast on the daylight of this earth Such gloom, — why man has such a scope For love and hate, despondency and hope?

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