John Keats: His Life and Poetry, His Friends, Critics and After-fame

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C. Scribner's sons, 1917 - 598 pÓgines
 

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PÓgina 417 - Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare ; Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss. Though winning near the goal — yet, do not grieve ; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss. For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair ! Ah, happy, happy boughs ! that cannot shed Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu...
PÓgina 148 - She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love : A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye ! — Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be ; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me...
PÓgina 353 - I met a lady in the meads, Full beautiful — a faery's child. Her hair was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild.
PÓgina 425 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day...
PÓgina 241 - All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea. Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept (As 'twere in scorn of eyes,) reflecting gems, That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
PÓgina 424 - To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core ; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel ; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.
PÓgina 255 - The excellence of every art is its intensity, capable of making all disagreeables evaporate from their being in close relationship with Beauty and Truth.
PÓgina 90 - Homer ruled as his demesne; Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific — and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise — Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
PÓgina 406 - But his sagacious eye an inmate owns: By one and one the bolts full easy slide: The chains lie silent on the footworn stones; The key turns, and the door upon its hinges groans. And they are gone...
PÓgina 148 - Of aspect more sublime : that blessed mood In which the burthen of the mystery, In which the heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world. Is lightened; that serene and blessed mood. In which the affections gently lead us on...

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