Kiti leidimai - Peržiūrėti viską
anchorites Asopus Atossa behold breast breath bright brow Callicles calm Catana Centaurs Circe clear cries dark dead death deep divine dost doth dream earth Empedocles eternal Etna eyes fame fate feel fields gaze Glion gloom glow Gods Goethe gone grass grave grey hair hath hear heart heaven hills hour human Iacchus knew LAOCOÖN light little hour Lityerses live lonely long'd Marsyas mind mists Montbovon moonlit morning mortal mountain mute night o'er Obermann once pain pass pass'd past Pausanias Pelion Phrygian pines poet praise rest round Senancour shade shepherd shining silent sleep smile snow soft song soul spirit spring stars strain stream strife sweet Thebes thee thine things thou art Thou hast thought Thyrsis Tiresias to-night Vevey Vext voice wandering waves weary wind ye stars youth
64 psl. - But now I only hear Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, Retreating, to the breath Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear And naked shingles of the world.
63 psl. - THE sea is calm to-night. The tide is full, the moon lies fair Upon the straits ; on the French coast the light Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand, Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
217 psl. - Well! wind-dispersed and vain the words will be, Yet, Thyrsis, let me give my grief its hour In the old haunt, and find our tree-topp'd hill! Who, if not I, for questing here hath power? I know the wood which hides the daffodil, I know the Fyfield tree, I know what white, what purple fritillaries The grassy harvest of the river-fields, Above by Ensham, down by Sandford, yields, And what sedged brooks are Thames's tributaries; I know these slopes; who knows them if not I?
206 psl. - No, no, thou hast not felt the lapse of hours. For what wears out the life of mortal men? 'Tis that from change to change their being rolls: 'Tis that repeated shocks, again, again, Exhaust the energy of strongest souls, And numb the elastic powers. Till having used our nerves with bliss and teen, And tired upon a thousand schemes our wit, To the just-pausing Genius we remit Our worn-out life, and are what we have been.
132 psl. - Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts, Thick breaks the red flame ; All Etna heaves fiercely Her forest-clothed frame. Not here, O Apollo! Are haunts meet for thee. But, where Helicon breaks down In cliff to the sea...
199 psl. - Go, for they call you, Shepherd, from the hill; Go, Shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes: No longer leave thy wistful flock unfed, Nor let thy bawling fellows rack their throats, Nor the cropp'd grasses shoot another head.
47 psl. - Dost thou to-night behold Here, through the moonlight on this English grass, The unfriendly palace in the Thracian wild? Dost thou again peruse With hot cheeks and sear'd eyes The too clear web, and thy dumb Sister's shame? Dost thou once more assay Thy flight, and feel come over thee, Poor Fugitive, the feathery change Once more, and once more seem to make resound With love and hate, triumph and agony, Lone Daulis, and the high Cephissian vale? Listen, Eugenia How thick the bursts come crowding...
188 psl. - Calm soul of all things ! make it mine To feel, amid the city's jar, That there abides a peace of thine, Man did not make, and cannot mar. The will to neither strive nor cry, The power to feel with others give ! Calm, calm me more ! nor let me die Before I have begun to live.