John Keats

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:

Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:

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One morn before me were three figures seen, I With bowed necks, and joined hands, side-faced;
And one behind the other stepp'd serene, In placid sandals, and in white robes graced;
They pass'd, like figures on a marble urn, When s...

I stood tip-toe upon a little hill, The air was cooling, and so very still, That the sweet buds which with a modest pride Pull droopingly, in slanting curve aside, Their scantly leaved, and finely tapering stems, Had not yet lost those starry diad...

You say you love ; but with a
Chaster than a nun's, who
The soft Vespers to
While the chime-bell ringeth-O love me truly

Upon a time, before the faery broods Drove Nymph and Satyr from the prosperous woods,
Before King Oberon's bright diadem,
Sceptre, and mantle, clasp'd with dewy gem,
Frighted away the Dryads and the Fauns From rushes green, and brak...

I
There was a naughty boy, A naughty boy was he,
He would not stop at home, He could not quiet be- He took In his knapsack A book Full of vowels And a shirt With some towels, A slight cap For night cap, A hair brush, Comb ditto, New stoc...

Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, Alone and palely loitering
The sedge has withered from the lake, And no birds sing
Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, So haggard and so woe-begone
The squirrel's granary is full, And the harv...

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Hush, hush
tread softly
hush, hush my dear

Ever let the Fancy roam, Pleasure never is at home: At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth, Like to bubbles when rain pelteth; Then let winged Fancy wander Through the thought still spread beyond her: Open wide the mind's cage-door, She'll dart forth, ...

O Goddess
hear these tuneless numbers, wrung By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear, And pardon that thy secrets should be sung Even into thine own soft-conched ear: Surely I dreamt to-day, or did I see The winged Psyche with awaken'd eyes...

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art --Not in lone splendour hung aloft the
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,
The moving waters at their priest-like