The Eve Of St. Agnes (John Keats Poem)
St. Agnes' Eve--Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limp'd trembling through ...
St. Agnes' Eve--Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limp'd trembling through ...
I "Percussus sum sicut foenum, et aruit cor meum." - Ps. ci Wintertime nighs; But my bereavement-pain It cannot bring ...
THE sun had wheeled from Grey's to Dammer's Crest, And still I mused on that Thing imminent: At length I ...
Bereaved of all, I went abroad -- No less bereaved was I Upon a New Peninsula -- The Grave preceded ...
All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair- The bees are stirring-birds are on the wing- And Winter slumbering ...
NO more wine? then we'll push back chairs and talk. A final glass for me, though: cool, i' faith! We ...
No, I shall not say why it is that I love you- Why do you ask me, save for vanity? ...
You see that porcelain ranged there in the window- Platters and soup-plates done with pale pink rosebuds, And tiny violets, ...
At break of day the College Portress came: She brought us Academic silks, in hue The lilac, with a silken ...
O purblind race of miserable men, How many among us at this very hour Do forge a life-long trouble for ...
I know a village in a far-off land Where from a sunny, mountain-girdled plain With tinted walls a space on ...
Of course you've heard of the Nancy Lee, and how she sailed away On her famous quest of the Arctic ...
The sheep are in the silver wood, The cows are in the broom; The goats are in the wild mountain ...
(To Robert Graves) I Here I'm sitting in the gloom Of my quiet attic room. France goes rolling all around, ...
Heigh ho! to sleep I vainly try; Since twelve I haven't closed an eye, And now it's three, and as ...
THOUGH deep indifference should drowse The sluggish life beneath my brows, And all the external things I see Grow snow-showers ...
CHATTER of birds two by two raises a night song joining a litany of running water-sheer waters showing the russet ...
ERE I lose myself in the vastness and drowse myself with the peace, While I gaze on the light and ...
I Partly to think, more to be left alone, George Annandale said something to his friends- A word or two, ...
I Our brains ache, in the merciless iced east winds that knife us . . . Wearied we keep awake ...
Thistle and darnell and dock grew there, And a bush, in the corner, of may, On the orchard wall I ...
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