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 ...
In front the awful Alpine track Crawls up its rocky stair; The autumn storm-winds drive the rack, Close o'er it, in the air. Behind ...
Once on a timeThere was a little boy: a master-mageBy virtue of a BookOf magic--O, so magical it filledHis life ...
I'MID glad green miles of tillageAnd fields where cattle graze,A prosy little village,You drowse away the days.And yet — a ...
No song is mine of Arab steed-- My courser is of nobler blood,And cleaner limb and fleeter speed, And greater strength and ...
The Khan came from Bokhara townTo Hamza, santon of renown."My head is sick, my hands are weak;Thy help, O holy ...
YOU give me gifts with a gracious handA red carnation, a yellow primroseMore saffron pale than the pale sea sandWhen ...
As I came down from Lebanon, Came winding, wandering slowly down Through mountain passes bleak and brown, The cloudless day ...
Here in Samarcand they offer emeralds,Pure as frozen drops of sea-water,Rubies, pale as dew-ponds stained with slaughter,Where the fairies fought ...
BRING a poet, whose writings our book-shelves adorn,At Stratford-on-Avon, in Warwickshire, born,Let the name of a regicide also be heard,Who ...
The seven fleets of Venice Set sail across the sea For Cyprus and for Trebizond Ayoub and Araby. Their gonfalons ...
At noon of night the goddess, silver-stoled, Came with light foot across the moonlit land, And breezes soft as blow ...
Thou comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain, With banners, by great gales incessant fanned, Brighter than brightest silks of Samarcand, ...
St. Agnes' Eve--Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limp'd trembling through ...
When I was just a little boy, Before I went to school, I had a fleet of forty sail I ...
And the first grey of morning fill'd the east, And the fog rose out of the Oxus stream. But all ...
Set in this stormy Northern sea, Queen of these restless fields of tide, England! what shall men say of thee, ...
Kind solace in a dying hour! Such, father, is not (now) my theme- I will not madly deem that power ...
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