Life, Letters, and Literary Remains, of John KeatsG. P. Putnam, 1848 - 393 sider |
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Side 4
... professional honors and wide intellectual fame . I remain , dear Lord Jeffrey , Yours with respect and regard , PALL MALL , Aug. 1 , 1848 . R. MONCKTON MILNES . PREFACE . Ir is now fifteen years ago that I. 4 DEDICATION .
... professional honors and wide intellectual fame . I remain , dear Lord Jeffrey , Yours with respect and regard , PALL MALL , Aug. 1 , 1848 . R. MONCKTON MILNES . PREFACE . Ir is now fifteen years ago that I. 4 DEDICATION .
Side 20
... Dear child of sorrow - son of misery ! How soon the film of death obscured that eye Whence Genius mildly flashed , and high debate . How soon that voice , majestic and elate , Melted in dying numbers ! Oh ! how nigh Was night to thy ...
... Dear child of sorrow - son of misery ! How soon the film of death obscured that eye Whence Genius mildly flashed , and high debate . How soon that voice , majestic and elate , Melted in dying numbers ! Oh ! how nigh Was night to thy ...
Side 31
... DEAR SIR , Your letter has filled me with a proud pleasure , and shall be kept by me as a stimulus to exertion . I begin to fix my eyes on an horizon . My feelings entirely fall in with yours with regard to the ellipsis , and I glory in ...
... DEAR SIR , Your letter has filled me with a proud pleasure , and shall be kept by me as a stimulus to exertion . I begin to fix my eyes on an horizon . My feelings entirely fall in with yours with regard to the ellipsis , and I glory in ...
Side 32
... DEAR REYNOLDS , My brothers are anxious that I should go by myself into the country ; they have always been extremely fond of me , and now that Haydon has pointed out how necessary it is that I should be alone to improve myself , they ...
... DEAR REYNOLDS , My brothers are anxious that I should go by myself into the country ; they have always been extremely fond of me , and now that Haydon has pointed out how necessary it is that I should be alone to improve myself , they ...
Side 42
... dear friends , nigh foolish with delight , Who feel their arms and breasts , and kiss and stare , And on their placid foreheads part the hair . Young men and maidens at each other gazed , With hands held back and motionless , amazed To ...
... dear friends , nigh foolish with delight , Who feel their arms and breasts , and kiss and stare , And on their placid foreheads part the hair . Young men and maidens at each other gazed , With hands held back and motionless , amazed To ...
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affectionate friend Albert Auranthe Bailey beauty Bertha breathe bright brother Brown Castle Conrad dare DEAR REYNOLDS death delight Dilke doth Elgin Marbles Emperor Endymion Erminia Ethelbert Exeunt eyes fair fame feel flowers genius George George Keats Gersa give Glocester Gonfred Hampstead hand happy Haydon head hear heard heart Heaven honor hope Hunt imagination Isle of Wight JOHN KEATS Keats's lady leave Leigh Hunt letter literary live look Lord Lord Byron Ludolph mind morning nature never night noble numbers Otho pain Paradise Lost pass passion perhaps pleasure poem poet poetical poetry poor Port Patrick Prince Severn Shakspeare Sigifred sister sleep soft song Sonnet soon sort soul speak spirit Staffa sure sweet TEIGNMOUTH tell thee thine thing thou thought tion to-day verse walk wings word Wordsworth write written wrote
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Side 367 - I met a lady in the meads, Full beautiful - a faery's child, Her hair was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild.
Side 143 - 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.
Side 69 - Dilke on various subjects; several things dove-tailed in my mind, and at once it struck me what quality went to form a Man of Achievement, especially in Literature, and which Shakespeare possessed so enormously — I mean Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason...
Side 247 - 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.
Side 245 - 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.
Side 95 - Or may I woo thee In earlier Sicilian ? or thy smiles Seek as they once were sought, in Grecian isles, By bards who died content on pleasant sward, Leaving great verse unto a little clan ? O, give me their old vigour, and unheard Save of the quiet Primrose, and the span Of heaven and few ears, Rounded by thee, my song should die away Content as theirs, Rich in the simple worship of a day.
Side 142 - Our Adonais has drunk poison — Oh! What deaf and viperous murderer could crown Life's early cup with such a draught of woe? The nameless worm would now itself disown: It felt, yet could escape, the magic tone Whose prelude held all envy, hate, and wrong, But what was howling in one breast alone, Silent with expectation of the song, Whose master's hand is cold, whose silver lyre unstrung.
Side 143 - Praise or blame has but a momentary effect on the man whose love of beauty in the abstract makes him a severe critic on his own Works. My own domestic criticism has given me pain without comparison beyond what Blackwood or the Quarterly could possibly inflict — and also when I feel I am right, no external praise can give me such a glow as my own solitary reperception and ratification of what is fine.
Side 32 - Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up ; urchins Shall, for that vast of night that they may work, All exercise on thee ; thou shalt be pinch'd As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made 'em.
Side 74 - I MET a traveller from an antique land Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, * Tell that its sculptor well those passions read...