John Keats ( 10 of 38 )
Souls of poets dead and gone,
What Elysium have ye known,
Happy field or mossy cavern,
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Souls of poets dead and gone,
What Elysium have ye known,
Happy field or mossy cavern,
Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?
And on the balmy zephyrs tranquil rest
The silver clouds.
- John Keats,
And on the balmy zephyrs tranquil rest
The silver clouds.
- John Keats,
The poppies hung
Dew-dabbed on their stalks.
The poppies hung
Dew-dabbed on their stalks.
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.
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?
Dry your eyes--O dry your eyes,
For I was taught in Paradise
To ease my breast of read more
Dry your eyes--O dry your eyes,
For I was taught in Paradise
To ease my breast of melodies.
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."
Each Bond-street buck conceits, unhappy elf;
He shows his clothes! alas! he shows himself.
O that they read more
Each Bond-street buck conceits, unhappy elf;
He shows his clothes! alas! he shows himself.
O that they knew, these overdrest self-lovers,
What hides the body oft the mind discovers.
In a drear-nighted December,
Too happy, happy brook,
Thy bubblings ne'er remember
Apollo's summer read more
In a drear-nighted December,
Too happy, happy brook,
Thy bubblings ne'er remember
Apollo's summer look;
But with a sweet forgetting,
They stay their crystal fretting,
Never, never petting
About the frozen time.
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.
