PoemsGinn & Company, 1896 - 302ÆäÀÌÁö |
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xiii ÆäÀÌÁö
... rest of his life poetry was to him a prime necessity of existence . It was not until a couple of years later1 that he ventured to show to Clarke his own attempts at rhyming ; but he composed more and more , and mɔre and more the love of ...
... rest of his life poetry was to him a prime necessity of existence . It was not until a couple of years later1 that he ventured to show to Clarke his own attempts at rhyming ; but he composed more and more , and mɔre and more the love of ...
xxi ÆäÀÌÁö
... rest upon them . " Nor was he to be deterred by the difficulties which stood in his way . " I think that difficulties nerve the spirit of a man , " he says nobly ; and he adds , with an unconscious revelation of the keenness with which ...
... rest upon them . " Nor was he to be deterred by the difficulties which stood in his way . " I think that difficulties nerve the spirit of a man , " he says nobly ; and he adds , with an unconscious revelation of the keenness with which ...
xxiv ÆäÀÌÁö
... in so far fell below both by the capability to rest upon a passionate satisfaction in sensuous beauty for its own sake and as an end sufficient in itself . - This last - named characteristic was evidently due in part xxiv INTRODUCTION .
... in so far fell below both by the capability to rest upon a passionate satisfaction in sensuous beauty for its own sake and as an end sufficient in itself . - This last - named characteristic was evidently due in part xxiv INTRODUCTION .
12 ÆäÀÌÁö
... rest Quiet on her mossy nest ; Then the hurry and alarm When the bee - hive casts its swarm ; Acorns ripe down - pattering , 65 While the autumn breezes sing . Oh , sweet Fancy ! let her loose ; Every thing is spoilt by use : Where's ...
... rest Quiet on her mossy nest ; Then the hurry and alarm When the bee - hive casts its swarm ; Acorns ripe down - pattering , 65 While the autumn breezes sing . Oh , sweet Fancy ! let her loose ; Every thing is spoilt by use : Where's ...
21 ÆäÀÌÁö
... rest are quitting ; Or by the moon lifting her silver rim Above a cloud , and with a gradual swim Coming into the blue with all her light . O Maker of sweet poets , dear delight Of this fair world , and all its gentle livers ; Spangler ...
... rest are quitting ; Or by the moon lifting her silver rim Above a cloud , and with a gradual swim Coming into the blue with all her light . O Maker of sweet poets , dear delight Of this fair world , and all its gentle livers ; Spangler ...
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९९ Agnes Arethusa Art thou Bacchus beauty behold beneath bliss bower breath bright Carian clouds cold Corinth dark death deep delight dost doth dream ears earth Enceladus Endymion eyes Faerie Queene faint fair fear feel flowers forest gentle gloom goddess golden green grief hair hand happy heart heaven Hermes Hyperion immortal John Keats Keats Keats's kiss Lamia leaves Leigh Hunt light lips lone lute Lycius lyre melody morning mortal Naiad never night nymph o'er Ode to Psyche once pain pale pass'd passion Peona poem poet poetry Porphyro rill rose round Saturn Scylla seem'd shade sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft song sonnet sorrow soul spake spirit stars stept stood sweet tears tell thee thine things thou art thou hast thought trees trembling vex'd voice weep whisper wild wind wings wonders words young youth ¥É¥Ï
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5 ÆäÀÌÁö - 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; And, happy melodist, unwearied, For ever piping songs for ever new; More happy love!
3 ÆäÀÌÁö - Darkling I listen; and for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy!
189 ÆäÀÌÁö - Saturn, quiet as a stone, Still as the silence round about his lair; Forest on forest hung about his head Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there, Not so much life as on a summer's day Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass, But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
8 ÆäÀÌÁö - And in the midst of this wide quietness A rosy sanctuary will I dress With the wreath'd trellis of a working brain, With buds, and bells, and stars without a name, With all the gardener Fancy e'er could feign, Who breeding flowers, will never breed the same: And there shall be for thee all soft delight That shadowy thought can win, A bright torch, and a casement ope at night, To let the warm Love in ! FANCY.
10 ÆäÀÌÁö - Melancholy has her sovran shrine. Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine; His soul shall taste the sadness of her might, And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
2 ÆäÀÌÁö - Away ! away ! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee ! tender is the night. And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays...
5 ÆäÀÌÁö - Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, "Beauty is truth, truth beauty," — that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
2 ÆäÀÌÁö - Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret, Here, where men sit and hear each other groan...
282 ÆäÀÌÁö - Green little vaulter in the sunny grass, Catching your heart up at the feel of June, Sole voice that's heard amidst the lazy noon, When even the bees lag at the summoning brass; And you, warm little housekeeper, who class With those who think the candles come too soon, Loving the fire, and with your tricksome tune Nick the glad silent moments as they pass...
8 ÆäÀÌÁö - Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind; Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep, Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers...