John Keats

To Sorrow
I bade good-morrow,
And though to leave her far away behind;
But read more

To Sorrow
I bade good-morrow,
And though to leave her far away behind;
But cheerly, cheerly,
She loves me dearly:
She is so constant to me, and so kind.

And shade the violets,
That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.

And shade the violets,
That they may bind the moss in leafy nets.

In a drear-nighted December,
Too happy, happy brook,
Thy bubblings ne'er remember
Apollo's summer read more

In a drear-nighted December,
Too happy, happy brook,
Thy bubblings ne'er remember
Apollo's summer look;
But with a sweet forgetting,
They stay their crystal fretting,
Never, never petting
About the frozen time.

You have ravished me away by a Power I cannot resist; and yet I
could resist till I saw read more

You have ravished me away by a Power I cannot resist; and yet I
could resist till I saw you; and even since I have seen you I
endeavored often "to reason against the reasons of my Love."

There is a budding morrow in midnight.

There is a budding morrow in midnight.