John Keats
Endymion
UUID: 9c67d968-4001-11e5-9a77-119a1b5d0361
This ebook was created with StreetLib Write (http://write.streetlib.com)by Simplicissimus Book Farm
Table of contents
PREFACE.
BOOK I.
BOOK II.
BOOK III.
BOOK IV.
PREFACE.
Knowing within myself the manner in which this Poem has been produced, it is not without a feeling of regret that I make it public.What manner I mean, will be quite clear to the reader, who must soon perceive great inexperience, immaturity, and every error denoting a feverish attempt, rather than a deed accomplished. The two first books, and indeed the two last, I feel sensible are not of such completion as to warrant their passing the press; nor should they if I thought a year's castigation would do them any good;–it will not: the foundations are too sandy. It is just that this youngster should die away: a sad thought for me, if I had not some hope that while it is dwindling I may be plotting, and fitting myself for verses fit to live.This
may be speaking too presumptuously, and may deserve a punishment: but
no feeling man will be forward to inflict it: he will leave me alone,
with the conviction that there is not a fiercer hell than the failure
in a great object. This is not written with the least atom of purpose
to forestall criticisms of course, but from the desire I have to
conciliate men who are competent to look, and who do look with a
zealous eye, to the honour of English literature.The
imagination of a boy is healthy, and the mature imagination of a man
is healthy; but there is a space of life between, in which the soul
is in a ferment, the character undecided, the way of life uncertain,
the ambition thick-sighted: thence proceeds mawkishness, and all the
thousand bitters which those men I speak of must necessarily taste in
going over the following pages.I
hope I have not in too late a day touched the beautiful mythology of
Greece, and dulled its brightness: for I wish to try once more,
before I bid it farewel.
BOOK I.
A
thing of beauty is a joy for ever:Its
loveliness increases; it will neverPass
into nothingness; but still will keepA
bower quiet for us, and a sleepFull
of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.Therefore,
on every morrow, are we wreathingA
flowery band to bind us to the earth,Spite
of despondence, of the inhuman dearthOf
noble natures, of the gloomy days,Of
all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways10Made
for our searching: yes, in spite of all,Some
shape of beauty moves away the pallFrom
our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,Trees
old and young, sprouting a shady boonFor
simple sheep; and such are daffodilsWith
the green world they live in; and clear rillsThat
for themselves a cooling covert make'Gainst
the hot season; the mid forest brake,Rich
with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:And
such too is the grandeur of the dooms20
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
Lesen Sie weiter in der vollständigen Ausgabe!
