The Poetical Works and Other Writings of John Keats: Now First Brought Together, Including Poems and Numerous Letters Not Before Published, Том 4Reeves & Turner, 1883 |
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Страница 28
... beautiful . I take a walk every day an hour before dinner , and this is gene- rally my walk . I go out at the back gate across one street into the Cathedral yard , which is always interest- ing . Then I pass under the trees along a ...
... beautiful . I take a walk every day an hour before dinner , and this is gene- rally my walk . I go out at the back gate across one street into the Cathedral yard , which is always interest- ing . Then I pass under the trees along a ...
Страница 30
... Lost , " though so fine in itself , is a corruption of our language . It should be kept as it is , unique , a curiosity — a beautiful and grand curiosity , the most remarkable production of the world ; 30 MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS .
... Lost , " though so fine in itself , is a corruption of our language . It should be kept as it is , unique , a curiosity — a beautiful and grand curiosity , the most remarkable production of the world ; 30 MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS .
Страница 32
... beautiful impression of the seal . You should like to know what I was doing the 1st of May . Let me see ; I cannot recollect . I have all the Examiners ready to send . They will be a great treat to you when they reach you . I shall pack ...
... beautiful impression of the seal . You should like to know what I was doing the 1st of May . Let me see ; I cannot recollect . I have all the Examiners ready to send . They will be a great treat to you when they reach you . I shall pack ...
Страница 38
... beautiful September evening light has amused me frequently . The bad singing of the Cathedral I do not care to smoke - being by myself I am not very coy in my taste . At St. Cross ' there is an tory Exposition of an Anti - British ...
... beautiful September evening light has amused me frequently . The bad singing of the Cathedral I do not care to smoke - being by myself I am not very coy in my taste . At St. Cross ' there is an tory Exposition of an Anti - British ...
Страница 65
... beautiful nature , but I do not care a straw for them . The simple flowers of our Spring are what I want to see again . Brown has left the inventive and taken to the imita- tive art . He is doing his forte , which is copying Hogarth's ...
... beautiful nature , but I do not care a straw for them . The simple flowers of our Spring are what I want to see again . Brown has left the inventive and taken to the imita- tive art . He is doing his forte , which is copying Hogarth's ...
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Abbey Abbey's Esq admiration Adonais affectionate Brother John appeared bear beautiful Bedhampton Byron CHARLES ARMITAGE BROWN Charles Cowden Clarke CHARLES WENTWORTH Dilke Clarke copy criticism dear Brown dear Fanny dearest death delight Dilke Endymion eyes Fanny Brawne FANNY KEATS feel genius George Keats Gisborne give Hampstead happy Haslam Haydon hear heart hope Hunt's Hyperion John Keats John's Joseph Severn Keats's Kentish Town knew leave Leigh Hunt Letters &c living look Lord Byron Lord Houghton Louisville Manuscript mind Miss Brawne morning never night Number passage perhaps pleasure poem poet poetry poor Keats Postmark published received Recollections remember Reynolds Rome seems sent Severn Shelley Shelley's sister sonnet spirit sweet tell thing thou thought tion told Volume walk Walthamstow Wentworth Place wish words Wordsworth write written young
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Страница 242 - He has outsoared the shadow of our night; Envy and calumny, and hate and pain, And that unrest which men miscall delight, Can touch him not and torture not again; From the contagion of the world's slow stain He is secure, and now can never mourn A heart grown cold, a head grown grey in vain; Nor, when the spirit's self has ceased to burn, With sparkless ashes load an unlamented urn.
Страница 263 - But ye were dead To things ye knew not of, — were closely wed To musty laws lined out with wretched rule And compass vile; so that ye taught a school Of dolts to smooth, inlay, and clip, and fit, Till, like the certain wands of Jacob's wit, Their verses tallied. Easy was the task: A thousand handicraftsmen wore the mask Of Poesy.
Страница 241 - Live thou, whose infamy is not thy fame! Live! fear no heavier chastisement from me, Thou noteless blot on a remembered name! But be thyself, and know thyself to be!
Страница 239 - A pardlike spirit beautiful and swift — A love in desolation masked; — a Power Girt round with weakness; — it can scarce uplift The weight of the superincumbent hour; It is a dying lamp, a falling shower, A breaking billow; — even whilst we speak Is it not broken? On the withering flower The killing sun smiles brightly: on a cheek The life can burn in blood, even while the heart may break.
Страница 291 - Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: Fair youth , beneath the trees , thou canst not leave 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!
Страница 233 - Splendours, and Glooms, and glimmering Incarnations Of hopes and fears, and twilight Phantasies; And Sorrow, with her family of Sighs, And Pleasure, blind with tears, led by the gleam Of her own dying smile instead of eyes, Came in slow pomp; — the moving pomp might seem Like pageantry of mist on an autumnal stream.
Страница 231 - To that high Capital, where kingly Death Keeps his pale court in beauty and decay, He came; and bought, with price of purest breath, A grave among the eternal.
Страница 291 - Mnemosyne was straying in the world; Far from her moon had Phoebe wandered; 30 And many else were free to roam abroad, But for the main, here found they covert drear. Scarce images of life, one here, one there, Lay vast and edgeways; like a dismal cirque Of Druid stones, upon a forlorn moor, When the chill rain begins at shut of eve, In dull November, and their chancel vault, The Heaven itself, is blinded throughout night.
Страница 290 - There was a listening fear in her regard, As if calamity had but begun ; As if the vanward clouds of evil days Had spent their malice, and the sullen rear Was with its stored thunder labouring up.
Страница 246 - A light is past from the revolving year, And man, and woman; and what still is dear Attracts to crush, repels to make thee wither. The soft sky smiles, — the low wind whispers near: 'Tis Adonais calls! oh, hasten thither, No more let Life divide what Death can join together.