John Keats

O, sorrow!
Why dost borrow
Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?

O, sorrow!
Why dost borrow
Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?

The poetry of the earth is never dead.

The poetry of the earth is never dead.

I long to believe in immortality. . . . If I am destined to be
happy with you here--how read more

I long to believe in immortality. . . . If I am destined to be
happy with you here--how short is the longest life. I wish to
believe in immortality--I wish to live with you forever.

When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
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When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
That is the grasshopper's--he takes the lead
In summer luxury--he has never done
With his delights, for when tired out with fun,
He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.

He play'd an ancient ditty long since mute,
In Provence call'd, "La belle dame sans merci."

He play'd an ancient ditty long since mute,
In Provence call'd, "La belle dame sans merci."