Isabella; Or, The Pot Of Basil: A Story From Boccaccio (John Keats Poems)
I.Fair Isabel, poor simple Isabel!Lorenzo, a young palmer in Love's eye!They could not in the self-same mansion dwellWithout some stir ...
I.Fair Isabel, poor simple Isabel!Lorenzo, a young palmer in Love's eye!They could not in the self-same mansion dwellWithout some stir ...
The hut was built of bark and shrunken slabs,That wore the marks of many rains, and showedDry flaws wherein had ...
Saw'st thou that light? exclaim'd the youth, and paused:Through yon dark firs it glanced, and on the streamThat skirts the ...
Sing thy Creator's praise, and ownHim greatest—wisest—God alone;He wraps himself in robes of light,And, clothed in garments pure and bright,Of ...
I do not come to weep above thy pall, And mourn the dying-out of noble powers,The poet's clearer eye should see, ...
Here would I wish to sleep. This is the spotWhich I have long mark'd out to lay my bones in.Tired ...
A pilgrim of the wilds to-day, I lie by Cameron's stone,And let my fancy roam and play, And take sweet ...
This labouring, vast, Tellurian galleon,Riding at anchor off the orient sun,Had broken its cable, and stood out to spaceDown some ...
THE Hours passed by, a fleet, confused crowd; With wafture of blown garments bright as fire, Light, light of foot ...
HOW soon the verdant months are past!The branches bend with snow,And keenly beats the chilling blastOn bleak November's brow.Thus fleeting ...
I. Fair Isabel, poor simple Isabel! Lorenzo, a young palmer in Love's eye! They could not in the self-same mansion ...
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