John Keats

Through the dancing poppies stole
A breeze most softly lulling to my soul.

Through the dancing poppies stole
A breeze most softly lulling to my soul.

Poetry should... should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.

Poetry should... should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.

And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon.

And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon.

Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; read more

Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music:--do I wake or sleep?

On a lone winter evening, when the frost
Has wrought a silence.

On a lone winter evening, when the frost
Has wrought a silence.