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adieu Apollo Art thou beauty beneath bliss bower breast breath bright CHARLES COWDEN CLARKE clouds Corinth dark death deep delight dost doth dream earth Endymion Engravings Eolian eyes face faint fair fancy fear feel flowers forest gentle gilt and gilt gilt edges golden green grief hair hand happy heart heaven Hyperion JOHN KEATS Keats kiss Lamia leaves Leigh Hunt light lips look lute Lycius lyre melodies Mermaid Tavern morning Morocco Antique mortal Muse muslin Naiad never night nymph o'er pain pale passed passion pleasant pleasure poet rill rose round Saturn Scylla shade sigh silent silver sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spake spirit stars stept stood stream sweet tears tell tender thee thine things thou art thou hast thought trees trembling Turkey Morocco twas voice weep whispering wild wind wings wonders young youth
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.