The Poetical Works of John Keats

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E. H. Butler, 1855 - 350 pages
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Page 309 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too...
Page 297 - My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: "Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness, — That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
Page 299 - Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod.
Page 347 - To one who has been long in city pent, 'Tis very sweet to look into the fair And open face of heaven, — to breathe a prayer Full in the smile of the blue firmament.
Page 235 - But to her heart, her heart was voluble, Paining with eloquence her balmy side ; As though a tongueless nightingale should swell Her throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled in her dell.
Page 305 - Shaded hyacinth, alway Sapphire queen of the mid-May ; And every leaf, and every flower Pearled with the self-same shower. Thou shalt see the field-mouse peep Meagre from its celled sleep : And the snake, all winter-thin, Cast on sunny bank its skin ; Freckled nest-eggs thou shalt see Hatching in the hawthorn -tree. When the hen-bird's wing doth rest Quiet on her mossy nest ; Then the hurry and alarm When the bee-hive casts its swarm ; Acorns ripe down-pattering While the autumn breezes sing.
Page 241 - Let us away, my love, with happy speed ; There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see, — Drowned all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead : Awake ! arise ! my love, and fearless be, For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee.
Page 37 - The Genius of Poetry must work out its own salvation in a man. It cannot be matured by law and precept, but by sensation and watchfulness in itself. That which is creative must create itself.
Page 230 - Eve, Young virgins might have visions of delight, And soft adorings from their loves receive Upon the honey'd middle of the night, If ceremonies due they did aright; As, supperless to bed they must retire, And couch supine their beauties, lily white; Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire.
Page 231 - Buttress'd from moonlight, stands he, and implores All saints to give him sight of Madeline, But for one moment in the tedious hours, That he might gaze and worship all unseen ; Perchance speak, kneel, touch, kiss — in sooth such things have been.

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