Maxioms by John Keats
There is a budding morrow in midnight.
There is a budding morrow in midnight.
Oh for a life of sensations rather than thoughts.
Oh for a life of sensations rather than thoughts.
Hear ye not the hum
Of mighty workings?
Hear ye not the hum
Of mighty workings?
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?
St Agnes' Eve--Ah, bitter chill it was!
The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold.
St Agnes' Eve--Ah, bitter chill it was!
The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold.
