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 ...
MAC DUFF'S CROSS,A DRAMA.PRELUDE.NAY , smile not, lady, when I speak of witchcraft,And say that still there lurks amongst our ...
SCENE I. An Ante-chamber in the Castle.Enter LUDOLPH and SIGIFRED.Ludolph. No more advices, no more cautioning:I leave it all to ...
SIR MAURICE was a wealthy lord,He liv'd in the north countrie,Well would he cope with foe-man's sword,Or the glance of ...
At Mary's tomb (sad sacred place!)The Virtues shall their vigils keep,And every Muse and every GraceIn solemn state shall ever ...
I never shall love the snow againSince Maurice died:With corniced drift it blocked the lane,And sheeted in a desolate plainThe ...
'Farewell to barn and stack and tree,Farewell to Severn shore.Terence, look your last at me,For I come home no more.'The ...
Bring Kateen-beug and Maurya JudeTo dance in Beg-Innish,And when the lads (they're in Dunquin)Have sold their crabs and fish,Wave fawny ...
Ah! the pleasant time hath vanished, ere our wretched doubtingsbanished,All the graceful spirit-people, children of the earth and sea,Whom in ...
A DialogueMark:So, Maurice, you sail to-morrow, you say? And you may or may not return?Be sociable, man! for once in ...
_A TALE OF PRINCE RUPERT_September 30: 1651Seventy league from Terceira they lay In the mid Atlantic straining;And inch upon inch ...
Abbeydorney, Abbeydorney, Long ago thy race was run, Prone thou art 'mid thickets thorny, Shrine of Kyrie Eleison! ...
Maurice, weep not, I am not here under this pine tree.The balmy air of spring whispers through the sweet grass,The ...
St. Agnes' Eve--Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limp'd trembling through ...
"Farewell to barn and stack and tree, Farewell to Severn shore. Terence, look your last at me, For I come ...
AGAINST THE GRAIN "Oxford be silent, I this truth must write Leeds hath for rarities undone thee quite." - William ...
He was my one and only love; My world was mirror for his face. We were as close as hand ...
Maurice, weep not, I am not here under this pine tree. The balmy air of spring whispers through the sweet ...
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