Hyperion. Book II (John Keats Poems)
Just at the self-same beat of Time's wide wingsHyperion slid into the rustled air,And Saturn gain'd with Thea that sad ...
Just at the self-same beat of Time's wide wingsHyperion slid into the rustled air,And Saturn gain'd with Thea that sad ...
Poet"Why this fever--why this sighing?--Why this restless longing--dyingFor--a something--dreamy something,Undefined, and yet defyingAll the pride and power of manhood?"O these ...
BOOK I Deep in the shady sadness of a vale Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn, Far from ...
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