Life, letters, and literary remains, of John Keats, Band 2 |
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Seite 35
... arms be placed , The tender gaolers of thy waist ! And let me feel that warm breath here and there To spread a rapture in my very hair , — O , the sweetness of the pain ! Give me those lips again ! Enough ! Enough ! it is enough for me ...
... arms be placed , The tender gaolers of thy waist ! And let me feel that warm breath here and there To spread a rapture in my very hair , — O , the sweetness of the pain ! Give me those lips again ! Enough ! Enough ! it is enough for me ...
Seite 86
... arm - it was black and thick . Keats was much alarmed and dejected . What a sorrowful day I had with him ! He rushed out of bed and said , ' This day shall be my last ; ' and but for me most certainly it would . The blood broke forth in ...
... arm - it was black and thick . Keats was much alarmed and dejected . What a sorrowful day I had with him ! He rushed out of bed and said , ' This day shall be my last ; ' and but for me most certainly it would . The blood broke forth in ...
Seite 89
... arms ; you would have smoothed down his pain by variety of in- terests , and his death would have been eased by the presence of many friends . Here , with one solitary friend , in a place savage for an invalid , he has one more pang ...
... arms ; you would have smoothed down his pain by variety of in- terests , and his death would have been eased by the presence of many friends . Here , with one solitary friend , in a place savage for an invalid , he has one more pang ...
Seite 94
... arms . phlegm seemed boiling in his throat , and increased until eleven , when he gradually sunk into death , so quiet , that I still thought he slept . I cannot say more now . I am broken down by four nights ' watch- ing , no sleep ...
... arms . phlegm seemed boiling in his throat , and increased until eleven , when he gradually sunk into death , so quiet , that I still thought he slept . I cannot say more now . I am broken down by four nights ' watch- ing , no sleep ...
Seite 122
... not this stranger's victor - deeds So hang upon your spirit . Twice in the fight It was my chance to meet his olive brow , Triumphant in the enemy's shatter'd rhomb ; And , to say truth , in any Christian arm 122 OTHO THE GREAT .
... not this stranger's victor - deeds So hang upon your spirit . Twice in the fight It was my chance to meet his olive brow , Triumphant in the enemy's shatter'd rhomb ; And , to say truth , in any Christian arm 122 OTHO THE GREAT .
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
1st Knight Albert Auranthe bear beauty Bedhampton Bellanaine Bertha breathe bright Castle Conrad dare DEAR BROWN death doth Duke Eban EDWARD MOXON Elfinan Emperor Enter Erminia Ethelbert Exeunt Exit eyes faery fair fair lady fame Farewell father fear feel flowers genius George Keats Gersa give Glocester Gonfred Hampstead hand happy Hast hear heard heart Heaven honour hope hour Hungarian hush Huzza Imaus Isle of Wight JOHN KEATS Kaims Keats's lady Lamia leave Leigh Hunt letter lips literary live look Lord Ludolph Maud mind morning never noble o'er Otho pain pale Physician poem poor pr'ythee Prince Princess quiet SCENE Severn Shanklin Sigifred sire sister sleep smile soft soul speak spirits Steephill Stephen sweet sword tears tell thee thine thing thou thought to-day twas whisper wings word write written
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 103 - 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.
Seite 25 - I have given up Hyperion — there were too many Miltonic inversions in it — Miltonic verse cannot be written but in an artful, or, rather, artist's humour. I wish to give myself up to other sensations. English ought to be kept up.
Seite 99 - And flowering weeds, and fragrant copses dress The bones of Desolation's nakedness Pass, till the Spirit of the spot shall lead Thy footsteps to a slope of green access Where, like an infant's smile, over the dead, 440 A light of laughing flowers along the grass is spread.
Seite 260 - I HAD a dove and the sweet dove died; And I have thought it died of grieving! O, what could it grieve for ? Its feet were tied, With a silken thread of my own hand's weaving; Sweet little red feet ! why should you die — Why should you leave me, sweet bird ! why?
Seite 269 - I set her on my pacing steed, And nothing else saw all day long, For sidelong would she bend, and sing A faery's song.
Seite 291 - It keeps eternal whisperings around Desolate shores, and with its mighty swell Gluts twice ten thousand caverns, till the spell Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound.
Seite 269 - 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!' I saw their starved lips in the gloam, With horrid warning gaped wide, And I awoke and found me here, On the cold hill's side.
Seite 108 - Most wretched men Are cradled into poetry by wrong, They learn in suffering what they teach in song.
Seite 301 - Why did I laugh to-night? No voice will tell: No God, no Demon of severe response Deigns to reply from heaven or from Hell — Then to my human heart I turn at once — Heart! thou and I are here sad and alone; Say, wherefore did I laugh?
Seite 277 - They faded, and, forsooth! I wanted wings: O folly! What is Love? and where is it? And for that poor Ambition! it springs From a man's little heart's short fever-fit; For Poesy! — no, — she has not a joy, — At least for me, — so sweet as drowsy noons, And evenings steep'd in honied indolence; O, for an age so shelter'd from annoy, That I may never know how change the moons, Or hear the voice of busy common-sense! And once more came they by; — alas! wherefore?