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?

A thing of beauty is a joy forever;
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; read more

A thing of beauty is a joy forever;
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon.

And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon.

There is a budding morrow in midnight.

There is a budding morrow in midnight.

Fanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave a paradise for a sect.

Fanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave a paradise for a sect.