John Keats

'Tis the witching hour of night,
Orbed is the moon and bright,
And the stars they glisten, read more

'Tis the witching hour of night,
Orbed is the moon and bright,
And the stars they glisten, glisten,
Seeming with bright eyes to listen-
For what listen they?

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."

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.

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

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