The Poetical Works of John Keats: With a LifeLittle, Brown. Shepard, Clark and Brown, 1859 - 438 من الصفحات |
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عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
Apollo Arethusa art thou Bacchus beauty behold beneath bliss bower breast breath bright Carian Charles Cowden Clarke chidden clouds cold Corinth dark death deep divine dost doth dream ears earth Echo Elysium Endymion eyes face faint fair fear feel felt flowers forest gentle Goddess golden green grief hair hand happy head heart heaven Hermes hour Hyperion immortal Keats kiss Lamia leaves light lips lonely look lute Lycius lyre morning mortal Naiad night nymph o'er once pain pale pass'd passion Peona pity pleasant pleasure poet rill river glade rose round Saturn Satyrs Scylla seem'd shade sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft sorrow soul spake spirit stars stept stood strange sweet tears tell tender thee thine thing thou art thou hast thought throne trees trembling twas Vex'd voice weep whence whispering wild wind wings wonders young youth
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 287 - 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...
الصفحة 197 - Hyena foemen, and hot-blooded lords, Whose very dogs would execrations howl Against his lineage : not one breast affords Him any mercy, in that mansion foul, Save one old beldame, weak in body and in soul.
الصفحة 288 - 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! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain— To thy high requiem become a sod.
الصفحة 369 - My spirit is too weak — Mortality Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep, And each imagined pinnacle and steep Of godlike hardship tells me I must die Like a sick eagle looking at the sky. Yet 'tis a gentle luxury to weep That I have not the cloudy winds to keep Fresh for the opening of the morning's eye.
الصفحة ix - And strength by limping sway disabled, And art made tongue-tied by authority...
الصفحة 302 - To bend with apples the mossed 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'erbrimmed their clammy cells.
الصفحة 390 - I saw pale kings, and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried— "La Belle Dame sans Merci Hath thee in thrall!
الصفحة 202 - Of fruits and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass, And diamonded with panes of quaint device, Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes, As are the tiger-moth's deep-damask'd wings; And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries, And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings, A shielded scutcheon blush 'd with blood of queens and kings.
الصفحة 418 - Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask Of snow upon the mountains and the moors: — No — yet still steadfast, still unchangeable, Pillow'd upon my fair Love's ripening breast To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest; Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever, — or else swoon to death.
الصفحة 198 - Good Saints! not here, not here; Follow me, child, or else these stones will be thy bier.