Robin Hood (John Keats Poems)
No! those days are gone away,And their hours are old and gray,And their minutes buried allUnder the down-trodden pallOf the ...
No! those days are gone away,And their hours are old and gray,And their minutes buried allUnder the down-trodden pallOf the ...
AT A DINNER GIVEN HIM ON HIS EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY,DECEMBER 12, 1885With a bronze statuette of John of Bologna's Mercury,presented by ...
TO J. F. CLARKEWHO is the shepherd sent to lead,Through pastures green, the Master's sheep?What guileless 'Israelite indeed'The folded flock ...
ST. STEPHEN'S cloistered hall was proudIn learning's pomp that day,For there a robed and stately crowdPressed on in long array.A ...
As when, to one who long hath watched, the morn Advancing, slow forewarns the approach of day, (What time the young and ...
Close is the nook; the valley--pathway steep Above the river climbs; and down the bank, With sweet wild roses and thick hazels ...
Thou, run to the dry on this wayside bank,Too plainly of all the propellers bereft!Quenched youth, and is that thy ...
Through the lattice rushes the south wind, dense With fumes of the flowery frankincense From hawthorn blossoming thickly; And gold ...
I. I honour Nature, holding it unjustTo look with jealousy on her designs;With every passing year more fast she twinesAbout ...
'TIS nine o'clock:-to bed! cried Egremont,Who with his youthful household (for 'tis nowLong since) inhabited a lonely homeIn the Australian ...
SWEET daughter of a rough and stormy fire,Hoar Winter's blooming child; delightful Spring! Whose unshorn locks with leaves ...
The thousand streets of London grayRepel all country sights;But bar not winds upon their way,Nor quench the scent of new-mown ...
With joy all relics of the past I hail; The heath-bell, lingering in our cultured moor, Or the dull sound ...
There once was a man whom the gods didn't love, And a disagreeable man was he. He loathed his neighbours, ...
"Speak! speak I thou fearful guest Who, with thy hollow breast Still in rude armor drest, Comest to daunt me! ...
to a friend No! those days are gone away And their hours are old and gray, And their minutes buried ...
St. Agnes' Eve--Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limp'd trembling through ...
Get up, get up for shame! the blooming morn Upon her wings presents the god unshorn. See how Aurora throws ...
TRUE genius, but true woman ! dost deny The woman's nature with a manly scorn And break away the gauds ...
Now Night came down, and rose full soon That patroness of rogues, the Moon; Beneath whose kind protecting ray, Wolves, ...
FROM off a hill whose concave womb reworded A plaintful story from a sistering vale, My spirits to attend this ...
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