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affectionate Brother John appears beautiful Bedhampton Ben Nevis Book Brown called Charles Wentworth Dilke copy dear Bailey dear Fanny dear Haydon dear Keats dear Reynolds delightful Devonshire Dilke Duke Endymion Fanny Brawne Fanny Keats feel friend John Keats genius George George Keats give Hampstead happy Haydon's journal Hazlitt head hear heard heart Heaven hope Hunt Imagination Isle Isle of Wight John Ham1lton Reynolds Keats's Lady Leigh Hunt lines Little Britain look Lord Houghton miles Milton mind Miss morning mountains never night Paradise Lost passage perhaps pleasure poem poet poetry Port Patrick Postmark remember Robert Haydon Shakespeare sincere friend John sister sonnet soon sort soul speak spirit talk Taylor teazed Teignmouth tell thing Thomas Keats thought tion town Volume walk Walthamstow Wentworth Place wish word Wordsworth write written wrote yesterday
Página 23 - Anon, out of the earth a fabric huge Rose like an exhalation, with the sound Of dulcet symphonies and voices sweet, Built like a temple, where pilasters round Were set, and Doric pillars overlaid With golden architrave; nor did there want Cornice or frieze, with bossy sculptures graven : The roof was fretted gold.
Página 292 - All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence ? We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, Have with our needles created both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, Both warbling of one song, both in one key ; As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds, Had been incorporate.
Página 99 - I mean Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason...
Página 28 - Urania, and fit audience find, though few. But drive far off the barbarous dissonance Of Bacchus and his revellers, the race Of that wild rout that tore the Thracian Bard In Rhodope, where woods and rocks had ears To rapture, till the savage clamour drowned Both harp and voice ; nor could the Muse defend Her son.
Página 233 - A poet is the most unpoetical of any thing in existence, because he has no Identity — he is continually in for and filling some other Body — The Sun, the Moon, the Sea and Men and Women, who are creatures of impulse, are poetical, and have about them an unchangeable attribute; the poet has none, no identity — he is certainly the most unpoetical of all God's Creatures.
Página 22 - The imperial ensign; which, full high advanced, Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind...
Página 22 - With orient colours waving: with them rose A forest huge of spears; and thronging helms Appeared, and serried shields in thick array Of depth immeasurable. Anon they move In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood Of flutes and soft recorders...
Página 23 - Looks through the horizontal misty air Shorn of his beams, or from behind the moon, In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs.
Página 234 - It is a wretched thing to confess, but it is a very fact, that not one word I ever utter can be taken for granted as an opinion growing out of my identical nature. How can it, when I have no nature?
Página 280 - This morning I am in a sort of temper^ indolent and supremely careless; I long after a stanza or two of Thomson's " Castle of Indolence;" my passions are all asleep, from my having slumbered till nearly eleven, and weakened the animal fibre all over me, to a delightful sensation, about three degrees on this side of faintness. If I had teeth of pearl, and the breath of lilies, I should call it languor ; but, as I am, I must call it laziness.