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 ...
Not all thy flushing suns are set, Herrick, as yet ; Nor doth this far-drawn hemisphere Frown and look sullen ...
(i) introduction his home in ruins his parents gone frederick seeks to reclaim his throne to the golden mountain he ...
Stairstep music: ups, downs, Bill Robinson smiling, jazzdancing the rounds. She raised champagne lips, danced inside banana hips. All Paris ...
Black granite stretches its harsh, tapering wings up to pedestrian-level grass but sucks me down, here, at the intersection of ...
There is fog upon the river, there is mirk upon the town; You can hear the groping ferries as they ...
William, my teacher, my friend ! dear William and dear Dorothea ! Smooth out the folds of my letter, and ...
'Twas at that hour of beauty when the setting sun squandereth his cloudy bed with rosy hues, to flood his ...
"Had we never loved so kindly, Had we never loved so blindly, Never met or never parted, We had ne'er ...
"Had we never loved so kindly, Had we never loved so blindly, Never met or never parted, We had ne'er ...
Some good people, daring & subtle voices and their tense faces, as I think of it I see sank underground. ...
Never the time and the place And the loved one all together! This path--how soft to pace! This May -- ...
Ah! happy he, upon whose birth each god Looks down in love, whose earliest sleep the bright Idalia cradles, whose ...
Ruggiero, to amaze the British host, And wake more wonder in their wondering ranks, The bridle of his winged courser ...
Argument. To leap from the promontory of LEUCADIA was believed by the Greeks to be a remedy for hopeless love, ...
Glad as the weary traveller tempest-tost To reach secure at length his native coast, Who wandering long o'er distant lands ...
He is gone on the mountain, He is lost to the forest, Like a summer-dried fountain, When our need was ...
ROSALIND, HELEN, and her Child. SCENE. The Shore of the Lake of Como. HELEN Come hither, my sweet Rosalind. 'T ...
PART I O! nothing earthly save the ray (Thrown back from flowers) of Beauty's eye, As in those gardens where ...
Under yonder beech-tree single on the green-sward, Couched with her arms behind her golden head, Knees and tresses folded to ...
No more of talk where God or Angel guest With Man, as with his friend, familiar us'd, To sit indulgent, ...
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