Mnenja - Napišite recenzijo
Na običajnih mestih nismo našli nobenih recenzij.
Druge izdaje - Prikaži vse
beams BEATRICE beautiful beneath blood breath bright calm child clouds cold dark dead death deep delight dream earth eternal eyes fair father fear feel fell fire flowers follow gentle grave green grew hair hand happy hear heard heart heaven hope hour human Italy knew leaves light lips living looks mighty mind moon morning mother mountains move nature never night o'er ocean once pain pale pass past peace poem rest round ruin seemed shadow shapes silent slaves sleep smile soon soul sound speak spirit spring stand stars stood strange stream sweet swift tears thee thine things thou thou art thought truth turned voice wandering waves weep Whilst wide wild wind wings youth
Stran 249 - Maenad, even from the dim verge Of the horizon to the zenith's height The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge Of the dying year...
Stran 325 - The breath whose might I have invoked in song Descends on me; my spirit's bark is driven, Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng Whose sails were never to the tempest given; The massy earth and sphered skies are riven! I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar; Whilst burning through the inmost veil of Heaven, The soul of Adonais, like a star, Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.
Stran 259 - The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the Ocean, The winds of Heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle. Why not I with thine?-— See the mountains kiss high Heaven And the waves clasp one another; No sister flower would be forgiven If it disdained its brother; And the sunlight clasps the earth And the moonbeams kiss the sea: What are all these kissings worth If thou kiss not me?
Stran 203 - ... stone Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand, Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, Tell that its sculptor well those passions read Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things, The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed: And on the pedestal these words appear: 'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Stran 291 - The One remains, the many change and pass; Heaven's light forever shines, Earth's shadows fly; Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass, Stains the white radiance of Eternity, Until Death tramples it to fragments. — Die, If thou wouldst be with that which thou dost seek!
Stran 308 - WHEN the lamp is shattered The light in the dust lies dead — When the cloud is scattered The rainbow's glory is shed. When the lute is broken, Sweet tones are remembered not; When the lips have spoken, Loved accents are soon forgot. As music and splendour Survive not the lamp and the lute, The heart's echoes render No song when the spirit is mute: — No song but sad dirges, Like the wind through a ruined cell, Or the mournful surges That ring the dead seaman's knell.
Stran 259 - The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder. I sift the snow on the mountains below, And their great pines groan aghast; And all the night 'tis my pillow white, While I sleep in the arms of the blast.
Stran 249 - The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low, Each like a corpse within its grave, until Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill (Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air) With living hues and odours plain and hill: Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere; Destroyer and Preserver; hear, oh, hear!
Stran 290 - He is made one with Nature : there is heard His voice in all her music, from the moan Of thunder to the song of night's sweet bird...