Hyperion (John Keats Poem)
BOOK I Deep in the shady sadness of a vale Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn, Far from ...
BOOK I Deep in the shady sadness of a vale Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn, Far from ...
O Sacred Providence, who from end to end Strongly and sweetly movest! shall I write, And not of thee, through ...
Sooner I'd praise a Cloud which Light beguiles, Than thy rash Hand which robs this Face of Smiles; And does ...
On the other side of a mirror there's an inverse world, where the insane go sane; where bones climb out ...
Dust is the only Secret -- Death, the only One You cannot find out all about In his "native town." ...
SO grieves th' adventurous merchant, when he throws All the long toil'd-for treasure his ship stows Into the angry main, ...
Come queen of months in company Wi all thy merry minstrelsy The restless cuckoo absent long And twittering swallows chimney ...
And what is Life? An hour-glass on the run, A mist retreating from the morning sun, A busy, bustling, still-repeated ...
1 They that in play can do the thing they would, Having an instinct throned in reason's place, --And every ...
There is a meadow in Sweden where I lie smitten, eyes stained with clouds' white ins and outs. And about ...
Oh! could I hope the wise and pure in heart Might hear my song without a frown, nor deem My ...
Ah whither, Love, wilt thou now carry me? What wontless fury dost thou now inspire Into my feeble breast, too ...
AH whither, Love, wilt thou now carry me? What wontless fury dost thou now inspire Into my feeble breast, too ...
Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid, My verse alone had all thy gentle grace, But now my gracious ...
No more be grieved at that which thou hast done: Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud; Clouds and eclipses ...
No more be grieved at that which thou hast done. Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud, Clouds and eclipses ...
Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid, My verse alone had all thy gentle grace, But now my gracious ...
Come, bright-eyed maid, Pure offspring of the tranquil mind, Haste, my fev'rish temples bind With olive wreaths of em'rald hue ...
UPON a garden's perfum'd bed With various gaudy colours spread, Beneath the shelter of a ROSE A BUTTERFLY had sought ...
We see it each day in the paper, And know that there's mischief in store; That some unprofessional caper Has ...
Yes, here I lie close to a stunted rose bush In a forgotten place near the fence Where the thickets ...
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