Epistle To John Hamilton Reynolds (John Keats Poems)
Dear Reynolds, as last night I lay in bed,There came before my eyes that wonted threadOf shapes, and shadows, and ...
Dear Reynolds, as last night I lay in bed,There came before my eyes that wonted threadOf shapes, and shadows, and ...
Now that I am ta'en awayAnd may not see another dayWhat is it to my eye appears?What sound rings in ...
Then farewell, thou false one! —Ah ! who'd have thought Sin In that fond seeming heart could have e'er been a ...
The islands called me far away,The valleys called me home.The rivers with a silver voiceDrew on my heart to come.The ...
CAPTURE OF THE FIRE-FISH.Wainamoinen, the enchanter,The eternal wisdom-singer,Long reflected, well considered,How to weave the net of flax-yarn,Weave the fish-net of ...
Speak kindly, wife; the little ones will grow Fairest and straightest in the warmest sun. We talk so often ...
I.THE sun is hot in the noisy street,So hot on a summer day,And people pass with such busy feet,There's never ...
Into all the onward current and this iron time that feels Its own way with din and clamour through this ...
Cambodunum, Cambodunum, how I love the sound o' t' name! Roman sowdiers belt a fort here, ...
Three cheers for the postman, the jolly old postman,With letters for Smith, Brown and Kelly, A load in his sack, ...
ITHE door is shut and barred upon my home,My home that for so long has held my pain,My home where ...
But now they are moaning, on ilka green loaningThe Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.Jane Elliot (1727-1805).O! day-time ...
When you and I are buriedWith grasses over head,The memory of our fights will standAbove this bare and tortured land,We ...
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children, England mourns for her dead across the sea. Flesh of her flesh ...
THE WALK TO THE PARADISE GARDENS 1 Bonfire Night beckoned us to the bridge By Saint Hilda's where we started ...
THERE was a child went forth every day; And the first object he look'd upon, that object he became; And ...
Watchman, what of the night? - Storm and thunder and rain, Lights that waver and wane, Leaving the watchfires unlit. ...
Frowning, the owl in the oak complained him Sore, that the song of the robin restrained him Wrongly of slumber, ...
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