Poems Narrative, Elegiac & VisionaryJ.M. Dent and Company, 1899 - 307 pàgines |
Des de l'interior del llibre
Resultats 1 - 5 de 100.
Pàgina 28
... weep a loss that turns their lights to shade . It is a woe too " deep for tears , " when all Is reft at once , when some surpassing Spirit , Whose light adorned the world around it , leaves Those who remain behind , not sobs or groans ...
... weep a loss that turns their lights to shade . It is a woe too " deep for tears , " when all Is reft at once , when some surpassing Spirit , Whose light adorned the world around it , leaves Those who remain behind , not sobs or groans ...
Pàgina 51
... weep But seldom stoops to such relief : Nor ever did I love thee less , Though mourning o'er thy wickedness Even with a sister's woe . I knew What to the evil world is due , And therefore sternly did refuse To link me with the infamy 40 ...
... weep But seldom stoops to such relief : Nor ever did I love thee less , Though mourning o'er thy wickedness Even with a sister's woe . I knew What to the evil world is due , And therefore sternly did refuse To link me with the infamy 40 ...
Pàgina 52
... weep that thou Should'st love me still , -thou only ! -- There , Let us sit on that grey stone , Till our mournful talk be done . HELEN Alas ! not there ; I cannot bear The murmur of this lake to hear . A sound from there , Rosalind ...
... weep that thou Should'st love me still , -thou only ! -- There , Let us sit on that grey stone , Till our mournful talk be done . HELEN Alas ! not there ; I cannot bear The murmur of this lake to hear . A sound from there , Rosalind ...
Pàgina 55
... weep for thee : mine own strange grief But seldom stoops to such relief : Nor ever did I love thee less , I knew Though mourning o'er thy wickedness Even with a sister's woe . What to the evil world is due , And therefore sternly did ...
... weep for thee : mine own strange grief But seldom stoops to such relief : Nor ever did I love thee less , I knew Though mourning o'er thy wickedness Even with a sister's woe . What to the evil world is due , And therefore sternly did ...
Pàgina 55
... weep that thou Should'st love me still , -thou only ! -There , Let us sit on that grey stone , Till our mournful talk be done . HELEN Alas ! not there ; I cannot bear The murmur of this lake to hear . A sound from there , Rosalind dear ...
... weep that thou Should'st love me still , -thou only ! -There , Let us sit on that grey stone , Till our mournful talk be done . HELEN Alas ! not there ; I cannot bear The murmur of this lake to hear . A sound from there , Rosalind dear ...
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
Frases i termes més freqüents
agony art thou azure beautiful beneath beside blood breath bright calm cheek clouds cold curses dæmon dark dead death deep delight despair dream Dryope dust earth eternal eyes faint fear flame flowers folded palm gentle Ginevra golden golden air grave green grew grey grief hair hear heard heart heaven HELEN human voice Imperious inquisition isles JOHN KEATS lady Leigh Hunt light limbs lips living looked Maddalo mind misanthropy moon mountains ne'er never night nursling o'er outface Padua pain pale passed pent PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY poem Prometheus Unbound Rosalind round sate scorn or hate seek self-compassion shadow Shelley shriek silence sleep smile soft sorrow soul spirit star strange stream sweet tears thee thine things thou art thought truth veil Venice voice waves weep wild wind wings wonder words wouldst wrought youth
Passatges populars
Pàgina 113 - O, weep for Adonais ! though our tears Thaw not the frost which binds so dear a head ! And thou, sad Hour, selected from all years To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscure compeers, And teach them thine own sorrow, say : with me Died Adonais ; till the Future dares Forget the Past, his fate and fame shall be An echo and a light unto eternity.
Pàgina 115 - That light whose smile kindles the universe, That beauty in which all things work and move, That benediction which the eclipsing curse Of birth can quench not, that sustaining Love Which, through the web of being blindly wove By man and beast and earth and air and sea, Burns bright or dim, as each are mirrors of The fire for which all thirst, now beams on me, Consuming the last clouds of cold mortality.
Pàgina 105 - Thus ceased she: and the mountain shepherds came, Their garlands sere, their magic mantles rent; The Pilgrim of Eternity, whose fame Over his living head like Heaven is bent, An early but enduring monument, Came, veiling all the lightnings of his song In sorrow...
Pàgina 113 - Pass, till the spirit of the spot shall lead Thy footsteps to a slope of green access Where, like an infant's smile, over the dead A light of laughing flowers along the grass is spread...
Pàgina 115 - The breath whose might I have invoked in song Descends on me; my spirit's bark is driven, Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng Whose sails were never to the tempest given; The massy earth and sphered skies are riven! I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar; Whilst burning through the inmost veil of Heaven, The soul of Adonais, like a star, Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.
Pàgina 106 - Midst others of less note, came one frail Form. A phantom among men; companionless As the last cloud of an expiring storm Whose thunder is its knell; he, as I guess, Had gazed on Nature's naked loveliness, Actaeon-like, and now he fled astray With feeble steps o'er the world's wilderness, And his own thoughts, along that rugged way, Pursued, like raging hounds, their father and their prey.
Pàgina 110 - His part, while the one Spirit's plastic stress Sweeps through the dull dense world, compelling there, All new successions to the forms they wear; Torturing th' unwilling dross that checks its flight To its own likeness, as each mass may bear; And bursting in its beauty and its might From trees and beasts and men into the Heaven's light.
Pàgina 120 - As Albion wails for thee : the "curse of Cain Light on his head who pierced thy innocent breast, And scared the angel soul that was its earthly guest...
Pàgina 109 - Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep — He hath awakened from the dream of life — 'Tis we who, lost in stormy visions, keep With phantoms an unprofitable strife, And in mad trance strike with our spirit's knife Invulnerable nothings.