John Keats

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This is an OCR edition with typos.
Excerpt from book:
Ill SCHOOLDAYS Xjnfield lies ten miles north of London. You may reach it by the John Gilpin route. The old school was at the town end, a red Georgian mansion with cherub faces and panels of flowers on the facade. It trained crews ...
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Overview

Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free.
This is an OCR edition with typos.
Excerpt from book:
Ill SCHOOLDAYS Xjnfield lies ten miles north of London. You may reach it by the John Gilpin route. The old school was at the town end, a red Georgian mansion with cherub faces and panels of flowers on the facade. It trained crews of some seventy boys under the discipline of Master Clarke and the fag system. The main building and the classroom were set in a garden. Beyond there was a vista of a pond, a patch of woodland, a sweep of green meadow with cattle, — poetic in the shifting light of sun, mist and moon. After the hubbub of play it was on this world of silence that young Keats fed his unsatisfied feelings. London — how stupid to call him a cockney — never made any impression upon him. He came to this school a litel clergeon in frocks. But he cared naught for his books and he sang no Alma redemptoris. He preferred the delight of battle with his peers. The diminutive youngster was all energy; an unstable compound of daring, defiance, pugnacity, anger, tyranny, generosity, good-will, melancholy, brooding loneliness. He raged sometimes and his comrades had to hold him down. But he won leadership by "terrier courage" and he gained friends by magnanimity. He fought, shook hands cordially and loved best those who fought him. Often passion swept through him like a tropical gust and left him in misery. Grief brought paralysis to his energies; subdued him with mental tortures. When suffering, he shut his lips and hid himself, self-reliant yet helpless. This temperament, though combative, is not martial. It is a prey to reaction. The mobile emotions, sometimes hysterical, are rather the evidence of imagination in the throes of blind beginnings. Usually they beget mere nerves; occasionally creative power. Note the next phase. Puberty concentrated the chaos of energies ...
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781103799749
  • Publisher: BiblioBazaar
  • Publication date: 4/10/2009
  • Pages: 288
  • Product dimensions: 8.00 (w) x 5.00 (h) x 0.60 (d)

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Ill SCHOOLDAYS Xjnfield lies ten miles north of London. You may reach it by the John Gilpin route. The old school was at the town end, a red Georgian mansion with cherub faces and panels of flowers on the facade. It trained crews of some seventy boys under the discipline of Master Clarke and the fag system. The main building and the classroom were set in a garden. Beyond there was a vista of a pond, a patch of woodland, a sweep of green meadow with cattle, — poetic in the shifting light of sun, mist and moon. After the hubbub of play it was on this world of silence that young Keats fed his unsatisfied feelings. London — how stupid to call him a cockney — never made any impression upon him. He came to this school a litel clergeon in frocks. But he cared naught for his books and he sang no Alma redemptoris. He preferred the delight of battle with his peers. The diminutive youngster was all energy; an unstable compound of daring, defiance, pugnacity, anger, tyranny, generosity, good-will, melancholy, brooding loneliness. He raged sometimes and his comrades had to hold him down. But he won leadership by "terrier courage" and he gained friends by magnanimity. He fought, shook hands cordially and loved best those who fought him. Often passion swept through him like a tropical gust and left him in misery. Grief brought paralysis to his energies; subdued him with mental tortures. When suffering, he shut his lips and hid himself, self-reliant yet helpless. This temperament, though combative, is not martial. It is a prey to reaction. The mobile emotions, sometimes hysterical, are rather the evidence of imagination in the throes of blind beginnings. Usually they beget merenerves; occasionally creative power. Note the next phase. Puberty concentrated the chaos of energies ...
Read More Show Less

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