The Eve Of St. Agnes (John Keats Poems)
I.St. Agnes' Eve--Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen ...
I.St. Agnes' Eve--Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen ...
TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH.King Hafbur & King SiwardThey needs must stir up strife,All about the sweetling SignyWho was so fair ...
Back and side go bare, go bare,Both foot and hand go cold;But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,Whether it ...
Back and side go bare, go bare,Both foot and hand go cold;But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,Whether it ...
I, with whose colours Myra dress'd her head,I, that ware posies of her own hand-making,I, that mine own name in ...
"Poor Tom's a-cold!" Upon his shrinking headThe pelting storm beats pitiless! On bedOf languishing, disease, and cureless painHe lies, surrounded ...
The wind it bloweth a-cold, a-cold,And the dreary Winter rain is falling;And over the desolate, drenched woldThe sad sea-voice is ...
There's Pan!See-through the branches yonder!Where has he been, I wonder,The long, long span?Now, listen: you will hear,The pipes-the pipes o' ...
Sprung of the father blood, the mother brain,Are they who point our pathway and sustain.They rarely meet; one soars, one ...
I have not any fearful tale to tellOf fabled giant or of dragon-claw,Or bloody deed to pilfer and to sellTo ...
Written for the benefit of a distressed Player, detainedat Brighthelmstone for Debt, November 1792. WHEN in a thousand swarms, the ...
FROM "EUGENE ONIEGIN " 28Yes, foes!-How many days, bethink you, Since hatred stepped the two between, And since in hours ...
What ails you that you look so pale, O fisher of the sea? "'Tis for a mournful tale I own, ...
I, with whose colours Myra dress'd her head,I, that ware posies of her own hand-making,I, that mine own name in ...
Fair islands of the silver fleece,Hoards of unsunned, uncounted gold,Whose havens are the haunts of Peace,Whose boys are in our ...
St. Agnes' Eve--Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limp'd trembling through ...
FOR a name unknown, Whose fame unblown Sleeps in the hills For ever and aye; For her who hears The ...
The wild winds weep And the night is a-cold; Come hither, Sleep, And my griefs infold: But lo! the morning ...
To the Memory of the Household It Describes This Poem is Dedicated by the Author "As the Spirit of Darkness ...
The wind's on the wold And the night is a-cold, And Thames runs chill 'Twixt mead and hill. But kind ...
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