Title:   Ode on a Grecian Urn and Other Poems

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Author:   John Keats

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PDF Version:   1.2



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Ode on a Grecian Urn and Other Poems

John Keats



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Table of Contents

Ode on a Grecian Urn and Other Poems ..........................................................................................................1

John Keats ................................................................................................................................................1

BRIGHT STAR, WOULD I WERE STEADFAST AS THOU ART  ....................................................1

THE EVE OF ST. AGNES  .....................................................................................................................2

FANCY  .................................................................................................................................................17

THE HUMAN SEASONS  ....................................................................................................................19

IF BY DULL RHYMES OUR ENGLISH MUST BE CHAIN'D  ........................................................19

LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI ......................................................................................................20

LINES ON THE MERMAID TAVERN ..............................................................................................21

MEG MERRILIES ...............................................................................................................................22

ODE ON A GRECIAN URN ...............................................................................................................23

ODE ON MELANCHOLY  ...................................................................................................................25

ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE  ................................................................................................................26

ODE TO PSYCHE  ................................................................................................................................28

ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER  ........................................................................30

ON SITTING DOWN TO READ KING LEAR ONCE AGAIN ........................................................31

ROBIN HOOD  ......................................................................................................................................31

TO AUTUMN  .......................................................................................................................................33

TO HOMER  ..........................................................................................................................................34

TO ONE WHO HAS BEEN LONG IN CITY PENT ..........................................................................34

TO SLEEP ............................................................................................................................................35

WHEN I HAVE FEARS THAT I MAY CEASE TO BE ....................................................................35


Ode on a Grecian Urn and Other Poems

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Ode on a Grecian Urn and Other Poems

John Keats

Bright Star, Would I were Steadfast as Thou Art 

The Eve of St. Agnes 

Fancy 

The Human Seasons 

If by Dull Rhymes our English must be Chain'd 

La Belle Dame sans Merci 

Lines on the Mermaid Tavern 

Meg Merrilies 

Ode on a Grecian Urn 

Ode on Melancholy 

Ode to a Nightingale 

Ode to Psyche 

On First Looking into Chapman's Homer 

On Sitting Down to Read King Lear Once Again 

Robin Hood 

To Autumn 

To Homer 

To One who has been Long in City Pent 

To Sleep 

When I have Fears that I may Cease to Be  

BRIGHT STAR, WOULD I WERE STEADFAST AS THOU ART

           Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art 

              Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night

           And watching, with eternal lids apart,

              Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite,

           The moving waters at their priestlike task

              Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,

           Or gazing on the new softfallen mask

              Of snow upon the mountains and the moors

           Noyet still stedfast, still unchangeable,

              Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast,

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To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,

              Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,

        Still, still to hear her tendertaken breath,

        And so live everor else swoon to death. 

THE EVE OF ST. AGNES

          St. Agnes' EveAh, bitter chill it was! 

                    The owl, for all his feathers, was acold;

                    The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass,

                    And silent was the flock in woolly fold:

                    Numb were the Beadsman's fingers, while he told

                    His rosary, and while his frosted breath,

                    Like pious incense from a censer old,

                    Seem'd taking flight for heaven, without a death,

           Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith.

              His prayer he saith, this patient, holy man;

              Then takes his lamp, and riseth from his knees,

              And back returneth, meagre, barefoot, wan,

              Along the chapel aisle by slow degrees:

              The sculptur'd dead, on each side, seem to freeze,

              Emprison'd in black, purgatorial rails:

              Knights, ladies, praying in dumb orat'ries,

              He passeth by; and his weak spirit fails

        To think how they may ache in icy hoods and mails.

              Northward he turneth through a little door,

              And scarce three steps, ere Music's golden tongue

              Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor;

              But noalready had his deathbell rung;

              The joys of all his life were said and sung:


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His was harsh penance on St. Agnes' Eve:

              Another way he went, and soon among

              Rough ashes sat he for his soul's reprieve,

        And all night kept awake, for sinners' sake to grieve.

              That ancient Beadsman heard the prelude soft;

              And so it chanc'd, for many a door was wide,

              From hurry to and fro. Soon, up aloft,

              The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide:

              The level chambers, ready with their pride,

              Were glowing to receive a thousand guests:

              The carved angels, ever eagereyed,

              Star'd, where upon their heads the cornice rests,

        With hair blown back, and wings put crosswise on their breasts.

              At length burst in the argent revelry,

              With plume, tiara, and all rich array,

              Numerous as shadows haunting faerily

              The brain, new stuff'd, in youth, with triumphs gay

              Of old romance. These let us wish away,

              And turn, solethoughted, to one Lady there,

              Whose heart had brooded, all that wintry day,

              On love, and wing'd St. Agnes' saintly care,

        As she had heard old dames full many times declare.

              They told her how, upon St. Agnes' Eve,

              Young virgins might have visions of delight,

              And soft adorings from their loves receive

              Upon the honey'd middle of the night,


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If ceremonies due they did aright;

              As, supperless to bed they must retire,

              And couch supine their beauties, lily white;

              Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require

        Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire.

              Full of this whim was thoughtful Madeline:

              The music, yearning like a God in pain,

              She scarcely heard: her maiden eyes divine,

              Fix'd on the floor, saw many a sweeping train

              Pass byshe heeded not at all: in vain

                    Came many a tiptoe, amorous cavalier,

              And back retir'd; not cool'd by high disdain,

              But she saw not: her heart was otherwhere:

        She sigh'd for Agnes' dreams, the sweetest of the year.

              She danc'd along with vague, regardless eyes,

              Anxious her lips, her breathing quick and short:

              The hallow'd hour was near at hand: she sighs

              Amid the timbrels, and the throng'd resort

              Of whisperers in anger, or in sport;

              'Mid looks of love, defiance, hate, and scorn,

              Hoodwink'd with faery fancy; all amort,

              Save to St. Agnes and her lambs unshorn,

        And all the bliss to be before tomorrow morn.

              So, purposing each moment to retire,

              She linger'd still. Meantime, across the moors,

              Had come young Porphyro, with heart on fire


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For Madeline. Beside the portal doors,

              Buttress'd from moonlight, stands he, and implores

              All saints to give him sight of Madeline,

              But for one moment in the tedious hours,

              That he might gaze and worship all unseen;

        Perchance speak, kneel, touch, kissin sooth such things have been.

              He ventures in: let no buzz'd whisper tell:

              All eyes be muffled, or a hundred swords

              Will storm his heart, Love's fev'rous citadel:

              For him, those chambers held barbarian hordes,

              Hyena foemen, and hotblooded lords,

              Whose very dogs would execrations howl

              Against his lineage: not one breast affords

              Him any mercy, in that mansion foul,

        Save one old beldame, weak in body and in soul.

              Ah, happy chance! the aged creature came,

              Shuffling along with ivoryheaded wand,

              To where he stood, hid from the torch's flame,

              Behind a broad halfpillar, far beyond

              The sound of merriment and chorus bland:

              He startled her; but soon she knew his face,

              And grasp'd his fingers in her palsied hand,

              Saying, "Mercy, Porphyro! hie thee from this place;

        They are all here tonight, the whole bloodthirsty race!

          "Get hence! get hence! there's dwarfish Hildebrand;


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He had a fever late, and in the fit

          He cursed thee and thine, both house and land:

          Then there's that old Lord Maurice, not a whit

          More tame for his gray hairsAlas me! flit!

          Flit like a ghost away.""Ah, Gossip dear,

          We're safe enough; here in this armchair sit,

          And tell me how""Good Saints! not here, not here;

       Follow me, child, or else these stones will be thy bier."

          He follow'd through a lowly arched way,

          Brushing the cobwebs with his lofty plume,

          And as she mutter'd "Wellawelladay!"

          He found him in a little moonlight room,

          Pale, lattic'd, chill, and silent as a tomb.

          "Now tell me where is Madeline," said he,

          "O tell me, Angela, by the holy loom

          Which none but secret sisterhood may see,

       When they St. Agnes' wool are weaving piously."

          "St. Agnes! Ah! it is St. Agnes' Eve

          Yet men will murder upon holy days:

          Thou must hold water in a witch's sieve,

          And be liegelord of all the Elves and Fays,

          To venture so: it fills me with amaze

          To see thee, Porphyro!St. Agnes' Eve!

          God's help! my lady fair the conjuror plays

          This very night: good angels her deceive!

       But let me laugh awhile, I've mickle time to grieve."


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Feebly she laugheth in the languid moon,

          While Porphyro upon her face doth look,

          Like puzzled urchin on an aged crone

          Who keepeth clos'd a wond'rous riddlebook,

          As spectacled she sits in chimney nook.

          But soon his eyes grew brilliant, when she told

          His lady's purpose; and he scarce could brook

          Tears, at the thought of those enchantments cold,

       And Madeline asleep in lap of legends old.

          Sudden a thought came like a fullblown rose,

          Flushing his brow, and in his pained heart

          Made purple riot: then doth he propose

          A stratagem, that makes the beldame start:

          "A cruel man and impious thou art:

          Sweet lady, let her pray, and sleep, and dream

          Alone with her good angels, far apart

          From wicked men like thee. Go, go!I deem

       Thou canst not surely be the same that thou didst seem."

          "I will not harm her, by all saints I swear,"

          Quoth Porphyro: "O may I ne'er find grace

          When my weak voice shall whisper its last prayer,

          If one of her soft ringlets I displace,

          Or look with ruffian passion in her face:

          Good Angela, believe me by these tears;

          Or I will, even in a moment's space,


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Awake, with horrid shout, my foemen's ears,

       And beard them, though they be more fang'd than wolves and bears."

          "Ah! why wilt thou affright a feeble soul?

          A poor, weak, palsystricken, churchyard thing,

          Whose passingbell may ere the midnight toll;

          Whose prayers for thee, each morn and evening,

          Were never miss'd."Thus plaining, doth she bring

          A gentler speech from burning Porphyro;

          So woful, and of such deep sorrowing,

          That Angela gives promise she will do

       Whatever he shall wish, betide her weal or woe.

          Which was, to lead him, in close secrecy,

          Even to Madeline's chamber, and there hide

          Him in a closet, of such privacy

          That he might see her beauty unespy'd,

          And win perhaps that night a peerless bride,

          While legion'd faeries pac'd the coverlet,

          And pale enchantment held her sleepyey'd.

          Never on such a night have lovers met,

       Since Merlin paid his Demon all the monstrous debt.

          "It shall be as thou wishest," said the Dame:

          "All cates and dainties shall be stored there

          Quickly on this feastnight: by the tambour frame

          Her own lute thou wilt see: no time to spare,

          For I am slow and feeble, and scarce dare

          On such a catering trust my dizzy head.


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Wait here, my child, with patience; kneel in prayer

          The while: Ah! thou must needs the lady wed,

       Or may I never leave my grave among the dead."

          So saying, she hobbled off with busy fear.

          The lover's endless minutes slowly pass'd;

          The dame return'd, and whisper'd in his ear

          To follow her; with aged eyes aghast

          From fright of dim espial. Safe at last,

          Through many a dusky gallery, they gain

          The maiden's chamber, silken, hush'd, and chaste;

          Where Porphyro took covert, pleas'd amain.

       His poor guide hurried back with agues in her brain.

          Her falt'ring hand upon the balustrade,

          Old Angela was feeling for the stair,

          When Madeline, St. Agnes' charmed maid,

          Rose, like a mission'd spirit, unaware:

          With silver taper's light, and pious care,

          She turn'd, and down the aged gossip led

          To a safe level matting. Now prepare,

          Young Porphyro, for gazing on that bed;

       She comes, she comes again, like ringdove fray'd and fled.

          Out went the taper as she hurried in;

          Its little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died:

          She clos'd the door, she panted, all akin

          To spirits of the air, and visions wide:


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No uttered syllable, or, woe betide!

          But to her heart, her heart was voluble,

          Paining with eloquence her balmy side;

          As though a tongueless nightingale should swell

       Her throat in vain, and die, heartstifled, in her dell.

          A casement high and triplearch'd there was,

          All garlanded with carven imag'ries

          Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knotgrass,

          And diamonded with panes of quaint device,

          Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes,

          As are the tigermoth's deepdamask'd wings;

          And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries,

          And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings,

       A shielded scutcheon blush'd with blood of queens and kings.

          Full on this casement shone the wintry moon,

          And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast,

          As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon;

          Rosebloom fell on her hands, together prest,

          And on her silver cross soft amethyst,

          And on her hair a glory, like a saint:

          She seem'd a splendid angel, newly drest,

          Save wings, for heaven:Porphyro grew faint:

       She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.

          Anon his heart revives: her vespers done,

          Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees;

          Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one;


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Page No 13


Loosens her fragrant boddice; by degrees

          Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees:

          Halfhidden, like a mermaid in seaweed,

          Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees,

          In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed,

       But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled.

          Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest,

          In sort of wakeful swoon, perplex'd she lay,

          Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppress'd

          Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away;

          Flown, like a thought, until the morrowday;

          Blissfully haven'd both from joy and pain;

          Clasp'd like a missal where swart Paynims pray;

          Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain,

       As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again.

          Stol'n to this paradise, and so entranced,

          Porphyro gaz'd upon her empty dress,

          And listen'd to her breathing, if it chanced

          To wake into a slumberous tenderness;

          Which when he heard, that minute did he bless,

          And breath'd himself: then from the closet crept,

          Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness,

          And over the hush'd carpet, silent, stept,

       And 'tween the curtains peep'd, where, lo!how fast she slept.

          Then by the bedside, where the faded moon


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Page No 14


Made a dim, silver twilight, soft he set

          A table, and, half anguish'd, threw thereon

          A cloth of woven crimson, gold, and jet:

          O for some drowsy Morphean amulet!

          The boisterous, midnight, festive clarion,

          The kettledrum, and farheard clarinet,

          Affray his ears, though but in dying tone:

       The hall door shuts again, and all the noise is gone.

          And still she slept an azurelidded sleep,

          In blanched linen, smooth, and lavender'd,

          While he forth from the closet brought a heap

          Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd;

          With jellies soother than the creamy curd,

          And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon;

          Manna and dates, in argosy transferr'd

          From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one,

       From silken Samarcand to cedar'd Lebanon.

          These delicates he heap'd with glowing hand

          On golden dishes and in baskets bright

          Of wreathed silver: sumptuous they stand

          In the retired quiet of the night,

          Filling the chilly room with perfume light.

          "And now, my love, my seraph fair, awake!

          Thou art my heaven, and I thine eremite:

          Open thine eyes, for meek St. Agnes' sake,

       Or I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth ache."


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Thus whispering, his warm, unnerved arm

          Sank in her pillow. Shaded was her dream

          By the dusk curtains:'twas a midnight charm

          Impossible to melt as iced stream:

          The lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam;

          Broad golden fringe upon the carpet lies:

          It seem'd he never, never could redeem

          From such a stedfast spell his lady's eyes;

       So mus'd awhile, entoil'd in woofed phantasies.

          Awakening up, he took her hollow lute,

          Tumultuous,and, in chords that tenderest be,

          He play'd an ancient ditty, long since mute,

          In Provence call'd, "La belle dame sans mercy":

          Close to her ear touching the melody;

          Wherewith disturb'd, she utter'd a soft moan:

          He ceas'dshe panted quickand suddenly

          Her blue affrayed eyes wide open shone:

       Upon his knees he sank, pale as smoothsculptured stone.

          Her eyes were open, but she still beheld,

          Now wide awake, the vision of her sleep:

          There was a painful change, that nigh expell'd

          The blisses of her dream so pure and deep

          At which fair Madeline began to weep,

          And moan forth witless words with many a sigh;

          While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep;


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Page No 16


Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye,

       Fearing to move or speak, she look'd so dreamingly.

          "Ah, Porphyro!" said she, "but even now

          Thy voice was at sweet tremble in mine ear,

          Made tuneable with every sweetest vow;

          And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear:

          How chang'd thou art! how pallid, chill, and drear!

          Give me that voice again, my Porphyro,

          Those looks immortal, those complainings dear!

          Oh leave me not in this eternal woe,

       For if thy diest, my Love, I know not where to go."

          Beyond a mortal man impassion'd far

          At these voluptuous accents, he arose

          Ethereal, flush'd, and like a throbbing star

          Seen mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose;

          Into her dream he melted, as the rose

          Blendeth its odour with the violet,

          Solution sweet: meantime the frostwind blows

          Like Love's alarum pattering the sharp sleet

       Against the windowpanes; St. Agnes' moon hath set.

          'Tis dark: quick pattereth the flawblown sleet:

          "This is no dream, my bride, my Madeline!"

          'Tis dark: the iced gusts still rave and beat:

          "No dream, alas! alas! and woe is mine!

          Porphyro will leave me here to fade and pine.

          Cruel! what traitor could thee hither bring?


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Page No 17


I curse not, for my heart is lost in thine,

          Though thou forsakest a deceived thing;

       A dove forlorn and lost with sick unpruned wing."

          "My Madeline! sweet dreamer! lovely bride!

          Say, may I be for aye thy vassal blest?

          Thy beauty's shield, heartshap'd and vermeil dyed?

          Ah, silver shrine, here will I take my rest

          After so many hours of toil and quest,

          A famish'd pilgrim,sav'd by miracle.

          Though I have found, I will not rob thy nest

          Saving of thy sweet self; if thou think'st well

       To trust, fair Madeline, to no rude infidel.

          "Hark! 'tis an elfinstorm from faery land,

          Of haggard seeming, but a boon indeed:

          Arisearise! the morning is at hand;

          The bloated wassaillers will never heed:

          Let us away, my love, with happy speed;

          There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see,

          Drown'd all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead:

          Awake! arise! my love, and fearless be,

       For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee."

          She hurried at his words, beset with fears,

          For there were sleeping dragons all around,

          At glaring watch, perhaps, with ready spears

          Down the wide stairs a darkling way they found.


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Page No 18


In all the house was heard no human sound.

          A chaindroop'd lamp was flickering by each door;

          The arras, rich with horseman, hawk, and hound,

          Flutter'd in the besieging wind's uproar;

       And the long carpets rose along the gusty floor.

          They glide, like phantoms, into the wide hall;

          Like phantoms, to the iron porch, they glide;

          Where lay the Porter, in uneasy sprawl,

          With a huge empty flaggon by his side:

          The wakeful bloodhound rose, and shook his hide,

          But his sagacious eye an inmate owns:

          By one, and one, the bolts full easy slide:

          The chains lie silent on the footworn stones;

       The key turns, and the door upon its hinges groans.

          And they are gone: aye, ages long ago

          These lovers fled away into the storm.

          That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe,

          And all his warriorguests, with shade and form

          Of witch, and demon, and large coffinworm,

          Were long benightmar'd. Angela the old

          Died palsytwitch'd, with meagre face deform;

          The Beadsman, after thousand aves told,

       For aye unsought for slept among his ashes cold. 


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Page No 19


FANCY

           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 cagedoor,

           She'll dart forth, and cloudward soar.

           O sweet Fancy! let her loose;

        Summer's joys are spoilt by use,

        And the enjoying of the Spring

        Fades as does its blossoming;

        Autumn's redlipp'd fruitage too,

        Blushing through the mist and dew,

        Cloys with tasting: What do then?

        Sit thee by the ingle, when

        The sear faggot blazes bright,

        Spirit of a winter's night;

        When the soundless earth is muffled,

        And the caked snow is shuffled

        From the ploughboy's heavy shoon;

        When the Night doth meet the Noon

        In a dark conspiracy

        To banish Even from her sky.

        Sit thee there, and send abroad,

        With a mind selfoveraw'd,

        Fancy, highcommission'd:send her!

        She has vassals to attend her:

        She will bring, in spite of frost,

        Beauties that the earth hath lost;

        She will bring thee, all together,

        All delights of summer weather;

        All the buds and bells of May,

        From dewy sward or thorny spray;

        All the heaped Autumn's wealth,

        With a still, mysterious stealth:

        She will mix these pleasures up

        Like three fit wines in a cup,

        And thou shalt quaff it:thou shalt hear

        Distant harvestcarols clear;

        Rustle of the reaped corn;

        Sweet birds antheming the morn:

        And, in the same moment, hark!

        'Tis the early April lark,

        Or the rooks, with busy caw,


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Page No 20


Foraging for sticks and straw.

        Thou shalt, at one glance, behold

        The daisy and the marigold;

        Whiteplum'd lillies, and the first

        Hedgegrown primrose that hath burst;

        Shaded hyacinth, alway

        Sapphire queen of the midMay;

        And every leaf, and every flower

        Pearled with the selfsame shower.

        Thou shalt see the fieldmouse peep

        Meagre from its celled sleep;

        And the snake all winterthin

        Cast on sunny bank its skin;

        Freckled nesteggs thou shalt see

         Hatching in the hawthorntree,

        When the henbird's wing doth rest

        Quiet on her mossy nest;

        Then the hurry and alarm

        When the beehive casts its swarm;

        Acorns ripe downpattering,

        While the autumn breezes sing.

              Oh, sweet Fancy! let her loose;

        Every thing is spoilt by use:

        Where's the cheek that doth not fade,

        Too much gaz'd at? Where's the maid

        Whose lip mature is ever new?

        Where's the eye, however blue,

        Doth not weary? Where's the face

        One would meet in every place?

        Where's the voice, however soft,

        One would hear so very oft?

        At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth

        Like to bubbles when rain pelteth.

        Let, then, winged Fancy find

        Thee a mistress to thy mind:

        Dulcetey'd as Ceres' daughter,

        Ere the God of Torment taught her

        How to frown and how to chide;

        With a waist and with a side

        White as Hebe's, when her zone

        Slipt its golden clasp, and down

        Fell her kirtle to her feet,

        While she held the goblet sweet

        And Jove grew languid.Break the mesh

        Of the Fancy's silken leash;

        Quickly break her prisonstring

        And such joys as these she'll bring.

        Let the winged Fancy roam,


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Page No 21


Pleasure never is at home. 

THE HUMAN SEASONS

           Four Seasons fill the measure of the year; 

                    There are four seasons in the mind of man:

           He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear

                    Takes in all beauty with an easy span:

           He has his Summer, when luxuriously

                    Spring's honied cud of youthful thought he loves

           To ruminate, and by such dreaming high

                    Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves

           His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings

              He furleth close; contented so to look

        On mists in idlenessto let fair things

              Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.

        He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,

        Or else he would forego his mortal nature. 

IF BY DULL RHYMES OUR ENGLISH MUST BE CHAIN'D

           If by dull rhymes our English must be chain'd,

                    And, like Andromeda, the Sonnet sweet

           Fetter'd, in spite of pained loveliness;

           Let us find out, if we must be constrain'd,

                    Sandals more interwoven and complete

           To fit the naked foot of poesy;

           Let us inspect the lyre, and weigh the stress

           Of every chord, and see what may be gain'd

                    By ear industrious, and attention meet:

        Misers of sound and syllable, no less

              Than Midas of his coinage, let us be

              Jealous of dead leaves in the bay wreath crown;

        So, if we may not let the Muse be free,


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Page No 22


She will be bound with garlands of her own.

LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI

           Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight, 

                    Alone and palely loitering;

           The sedge is wither'd from the lake,

                    And no birds sing.

           Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,

                    So haggard and so woebegone?

           The squirrel's granary is full,

                    And the harvest's done.

           I see a lily on thy brow,

              With anguish moist and fever dew;

        And on thy cheek a fading rose

              Fast withereth too.

        I met a lady in the meads

              Full beautiful, a faery's child;

        Her hair was long, her foot was light,

              And her eyes were wild.

        I set her on my pacing steed,

              And nothing else saw all day long;

        For sideways would she lean, and sing

              A faery's song.

        I made a garland for her head,

              And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;

        She look'd at me as she did love,

              And made sweet moan.

        She found me roots of relish sweet,

              And honey wild, and manna dew;

        And sure in language strange she said,


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Page No 23


I love thee true.

        She took me to her elfin grot,

              And there she gaz'd and sighed deep,

        And there I shut her wild sad eyes

              So kiss'd to sleep.

        And there we slumber'd on the moss,

              And there I dream'd, ah woe betide,

        The latest dream I ever dream'd

              On the cold hill side.

        I saw pale kings, and princes too,

              Pale warriors, deathpale were they all;

        Who cry'd"La belle Dame sans merci

              Hath thee in thrall!"

        I saw their starv'd lips in the gloam

              With horrid warning gaped wide,

        And I awoke, and found me here

              On the cold hill side.

        And this is why I sojourn here

              Alone and palely loitering,

        Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake,

              And no birds sing. 

LINES ON THE MERMAID TAVERN

           Souls of Poets dead and gone, 

           What Elysium have ye known,

           Happy field or mossy cavern,

           Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?

           Have ye tippled drink more fine

           Than mine host's Canary wine?

           Or are fruits of Paradise

           Sweeter than those dainty pies


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Page No 24


Of venison? O generous food!

        Drest as though bold Robin Hood

        Would, with his maid Marian,

        Sup and bowse from horn and can.

              I have heard that on a day

        Mine host's signboard flew away,

        Nobody knew whither, till

        An astrologer's old quill

        To a sheepskin gave the story,

        Said he saw you in your glory,

        Underneath a new old sign

        Sipping beverage divine,

        And pledging with contented smack

        The Mermaid in the Zodiac.

              Souls of Poets dead and gone,

        What Elysium have ye known,

        Happy field or mossy cavern,

        Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern? 

MEG MERRILIES

           Old Meg she was a Gipsy, 

                    And liv'd upon the Moors:

           Her bed it was the brown heath turf,

                    And her house was out of doors.

           Her apples were swart blackberries,

                    Her currants pods o' broom;

           Her wine was dew of the wild white rose,

                    Her book a churchyard tomb.

           Her Brothers were the craggy hills,

              Her Sisters larchen trees

        Alone with her great family

              She liv'd as she did please.

        No breakfast had she many a morn,

              No dinner many a noon,

        And 'stead of supper she would stare


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Page No 25


Full hard against the Moon.

        But every morn of woodbine fresh

              She made her garlanding,

        And every night the dark glen Yew

              She wove, and she would sing.

        And with her fingers old and brown

              She plaited Mats o' Rushes,

        And gave them to the Cottagers

              She met among the Bushes.

        Old Meg was brave as Margaret Queen

              And tall as Amazon:

        An old red blanket cloak she wore;

              A chip hat had she on.

        God rest her aged bones somewhere

              She died full long agone! 

ODE ON A GRECIAN URN

           Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness, 

                    Thou fosterchild of silence and slow time,

           Sylvan historian, who canst thus express

                    A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:

           What leaffring'd legend haunts about thy shape

                    Of deities or mortals, or of both,

                    In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?

                    What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?

           What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?

                    What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

        Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard

              Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;

        Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,

              Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:

        Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave

              Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;


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Page No 26


Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,

        Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;

              She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,

                    For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

        Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed

              Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;

        And, happy melodist, unwearied,

              For ever piping songs for ever new;

        More happy love! more happy, happy love!

              For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,

                    For ever panting, and for ever young;

        All breathing human passion far above,

              That leaves a heart highsorrowful and cloy'd,

                    A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

        Who are these coming to the sacrifice?

              To what green altar, O mysterious priest,

        Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,

              And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?

        What little town by river or sea shore,

              Or mountainbuilt with peaceful citadel,

                    Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?

        And, little town, thy streets for evermore

              Will silent be; and not a soul to tell

                    Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.

        O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede

              Of marble men and maidens overwrought,

        With forest branches and the trodden weed;

              Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought

        As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!

              When old age shall this generation waste,

                    Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe

        Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,

              "Beauty is truth, truth beauty,that is all

                    Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know." 


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Page No 27


ODE ON MELANCHOLY

           No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist 

                    Wolf'sbane, tightrooted, for its poisonous wine;

           Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd

                    By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;

                    Make not your rosary of yewberries,

                    Nor let the beetle, nor the deathmoth be

                    Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl

           A partner in your sorrow's mysteries;

                    For shade to shade will come too drowsily,

                    And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.

        But when the melancholy fit shall fall

              Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,

        That fosters the droopheaded flowers all,

              And hides the green hill in an April shroud;

        Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,

              Or on the rainbow of the salt sandwave,

                    Or on the wealth of globed peonies;

        Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,

              Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,

                    And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.

        She dwells with BeautyBeauty that must die;

              And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips

        Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,

              Turning to poison while the beemouth sips:

        Ay, in the very temple of Delight

              Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,

                    Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue

              Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;

        His soul shalt taste the sadness of her might,

                    And be among her cloudy trophies hung. 


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Page No 28


ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE

           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 Lethewards had sunk:

           'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,

                    But being too happy in thine happiness,

                    That thou, lightwinged Dryad of the trees

              In some melodious plot

                    Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,

                    Singest of summer in fullthroated ease.

        O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been

              Cool'd a long age in the deepdelved earth,

        Tasting of Flora and the country green,

              Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!

        O for a beaker full of the warm South,

              Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,

                    With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,

          And purplestained mouth;

              That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,

                    And with thee fade away into the forest dim:

        Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget

              What thou among the leaves hast never known,

        The weariness, the fever, and the fret

              Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;

        Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,

              Where youth grows pale, and spectrethin, and dies;

                    Where but to think is to be full of sorrow

          And leadeneyed despairs,

              Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,

                    Or new Love pine at them beyond tomorrow.

        Away! away! for I will fly to thee,

              Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,


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Page No 29


But on the viewless wings of Poesy,

              Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:

        Already with thee! tender is the night,

              And haply the QueenMoon is on her throne,

                    Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays;

          But here there is no light,

              Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown

                    Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.

        I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,

              Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,

        But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet

              Wherewith the seasonable month endows

        The grass, the thicket, and the fruittree wild;

              White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;

                    Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves;

          And midMay's eldest child,

              The coming muskrose, full of dewy wine,

                    The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.

        Darkling I listen; and, for many a time

              I have been half in love with easeful Death,

        Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme,

              To take into the air my quiet breath;

                    Now more than ever seems it rich to die,

              To cease upon the midnight with no pain,

                    While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad

          In such an ecstasy!

              Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain

                    To thy high requiem become a sod.

        Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!

              No hungry generations tread thee down;

        The voice I hear this passing night was heard

              In ancient days by emperor and clown:


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Page No 30


Perhaps the selfsame song that found a path

              Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,

                    She stood in tears amid the alien corn;

          The same that ofttimes hath

              Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam

                    Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

        Forlorn! the very word is like a bell

              To toll me back from thee to my sole self!

        Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well

              As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf.

        Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades

              Past the near meadows, over the still stream,

                    Up the hillside; and now 'tis buried deep

          In the next valleyglades:

              Was it a vision, or a waking dream?

                    Fled is that music:Do I wake or sleep? 

ODE TO PSYCHE

           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 softconched ear:

           Surely I dreamt today, or did I see

                    The winged Psyche with awaken'd eyes?

           I wander'd in a forest thoughtlessly,

                    And, on the sudden, fainting with surprise,

           Saw two fair creatures, couched side by side

              In deepest grass, beneath the whisp'ring roof

              Of leaves and trembled blossoms, where there ran

                    A brooklet, scarce espied:

        Mid hush'd, coolrooted flowers, fragranteyed,

              Blue, silverwhite, and budded Tyrian,


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Page No 31


They lay calmbreathing, on the bedded grass;

              Their arms embraced, and their pinions too;

              Their lips touch'd not, but had not bade adieu,

        As if disjoined by softhanded slumber,

        And ready still past kisses to outnumber

              At tender eyedawn of aurorean love:

                    The winged boy I knew;

        But who wast thou, O happy, happy dove?

                    His Psyche true!

        O latest born and loveliest vision far

              Of all Olympus' faded hierarchy!

        Fairer than Ph{oe}be's sapphireregion'd star,

              Or Vesper, amorous glowworm of the sky;

        Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none,

                    Nor altar heap'd with flowers;

        Nor virginchoir to make delicious moan

                    Upon the midnight hours;

        No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet

              From chainswung censer teeming;

        No shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat

              Of palemouth'd prophet dreaming.

        O brightest! though too late for antique vows,

              Too, too late for the fond believing lyre,

        When holy were the haunted forest boughs,

              Holy the air, the water, and the fire;

        Yet even in these days so far retir'd

              From happy pieties, thy lucent fans,

              Fluttering among the faint Olympians,

        I see, and sing, by my own eyes inspir'd.

        So let me be thy choir, and make a moan

                    Upon the midnight hours;

        Thy voice, thy lute, thy pipe, thy incense sweet

              From swinged censer teeming;

        Thy shrine, thy grove, thy oracle, thy heat

              Of palemouth'd prophet dreaming.


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Page No 32


Yes, I will be thy priest, and build a fane

              In some untrodden region of my mind,

        Where branched thoughts, new grown with pleasant pain,

              Instead of pines shall murmur in the wind:

        Far, far around shall those darkcluster'd trees

              Fledge the wildridged mountains steep by steep;

        And there by zephyrs, streams, and birds, and bees,

              The mosslain Dryads shall be lull'd to sleep;

        And in the midst of this wide quietness

        A rosy sanctuary will I dress

         With the wreath'd trellis of a working brain,

              With buds, and bells, and stars without a name,

        With all the gardener Fancy e'er could feign,

              Who breeding flowers, will never breed the same:

        And there shall be for thee all soft delight

              That shadowy thought can win,

        A bright torch, and a casement ope at night,

              To let the warm Love in! 

ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER

           Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold, 

                    And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;

                    Round many western islands have I been

           Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.

           Oft of one wide expanse had I been told

                    That deepbrow'd Homer ruled as his demesne;

                    Yet did I never breathe its pure serene

           Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:

           Then felt I like some watcher of the skies

              When a new planet swims into his ken;

        Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes

              He star'd at the Pacificand all his men

        Look'd at each other with a wild surmise

              Silent, upon a peak in Darien. 


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Page No 33


ON SITTING DOWN TO READ KING LEAR ONCE AGAIN

           O goldentongued Romance with serene lute! 

                    Fair plumed Syren! Queen of far away!

                    Leave melodizing on this wintry day,

           Shut up thine olden pages, and be mute:

           Adieu! for once again the fierce dispute,

                    Betwixt damnation and impassion'd clay

                    Must I burn through; once more humbly assay

           The bittersweet of this Shakespearian fruit.

           Chief Poet! and ye clouds of Albion,

              Begetters of our deep eternal theme,

        When through the old oak forest I am gone,

              Let me not wander in a barren dream,

        But when I am consumed in the fire,

        Give me new Phoenix wings to fly at my desire. 

ROBIN HOOD

TO A FRIEND 

           No! those days are gone away 

           And their hours are old and gray,

           And their minutes buried all

           Under the downtrodden pall

           Of the leaves of many years:

           Many times have winter's shears,

           Frozen North, and chilling East,

           Sounded tempests to the feast

           Of the forest's whispering fleeces,

        Since men knew nor rent nor leases.

              No, the bugle sounds no more,


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Page No 34


And the twanging bow no more;

        Silent is the ivory shrill

        Past the heath and up the hill;

        There is no midforest laugh,

        Where lone Echo gives the half

        To some wight, amaz'd to hear

        Jesting, deep in forest drear.

              On the fairest time of June

        You may go, with sun or moon,

        Or the seven stars to light you,

        Or the polar ray to right you;

        But you never may behold

        Little John, or Robin bold;

        Never one, of all the clan,

        Thrumming on an empty can

        Some old hunting ditty, while

        He doth his green way beguile

        To fair hostess Merriment,

        Down beside the pasture Trent;

        For he left the merry tale

        Messenger for spicy ale.

              Gone, the merry morris din;

        Gone, the song of Gamelyn;

        Gone, the toughbelted outlaw

        Idling in the "grenè shawe";

        All are gone away and past!

        And if Robin should be cast

        Sudden from his turfed grave,

        And if Marian should have

        Once again her forest days,

        She would weep, and he would craze:

        He would swear, for all his oaks,

        Fall'n beneath the dockyard strokes,

        Have rotted on the briny seas;

        She would weep that her wild bees

        Sang not to herstrange! that honey

        Can't be got without hard money!

              So it is: yet let us sing,

        Honour to the old bowstring!

        Honour to the buglehorn!

        Honour to the woods unshorn!

        Honour to the Lincoln green!

        Honour to the archer keen!

        Honour to tight little John,

        And the horse he rode upon!


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Page No 35


Honour to bold Robin Hood,

        Sleeping in the underwood!

        Honour to maid Marian,

         And to all the Sherwoodclan!

        Though their days have hurried by

        Let us two a burden try. 

TO AUTUMN

           Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, 

                    Close bosomfriend of the maturing sun;

           Conspiring with him how to load and bless

                    With fruit the vines that round the thatcheves run;

           To bend with apples the moss'd cottagetrees,

                    And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

                    To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

                    With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,

           And still more, later flowers for the bees,

        Until they think warm days will never cease,

                    For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.

        Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?

              Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find

        Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,

              Thy hair softlifted by the winnowing wind;

        Or on a halfreap'd furrow sound asleep,

              Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook

                    Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:

        And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep

              Steady thy laden head across a brook;

              Or by a cyderpress, with patient look,

                    Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

        Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?

              Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,

        While barred clouds bloom the softdying day,

              And touch the stubbleplains with rosy hue;

        Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn


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Page No 36


Among the river sallows, borne aloft

                    Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;

        And fullgrown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;

              Hedgecrickets sing; and now with treble soft

              The redbreast whistles from a gardencroft;

                    And gathering swallows twitter in the skies. 

TO HOMER

           Standing aloof in giant ignorance, 

                    Of thee I hear and of the Cyclades,

           As one who sits ashore and longs perchance

                    To visit dolphincoral in deep seas.

           So thou wast blind;but then the veil was rent,

                    For Jove uncurtain'd Heaven to let thee live,

           And Neptune made for thee a spumy tent,

                    And Pan made sing for thee his foresthive;

           Aye on the shores of darkness there is light,

              And precipices show untrodden green,

        There is a budding morrow in midnight,

              There is a triple sight in blindness keen;

        Such seeing hadst thou, as it once befel

        To Dian, Queen of Earth, and Heaven, and Hell. 

TO ONE WHO HAS BEEN LONG IN CITY PENT

           To one who has been long in city pent, 

                    'Tis very sweet to look into the fair

                    And open face of heaven,to breathe a prayer

           Full in the smile of the blue firmament.

           Who is more happy, when, with heart's content,

                    Fatigued he sinks into some pleasant lair

                    Of wavy grass, and reads a debonair

           And gentle tale of love and languishment?

           Returning home at evening, with an ear

              Catching the notes of Philomel,an eye


Ode on a Grecian Urn and Other Poems

TO HOMER  34



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Page No 37


Watching the sailing cloudlet's bright career,

              He mourns that day so soon has glided by:

        E'en like the passage of an angel's tear

              That falls through the clear ether silently. 

TO SLEEP

           O soft embalmer of the still midnight, 

                    Shutting, with careful fingers and benign,

           Our gloompleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light,

                    Enshaded in forgetfulness divine:

           O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close

                    In midst of this thine hymn my willing eyes,

           Or wait the "Amen," ere thy poppy throws

                    Around my bed its lulling charities.

           Then save me, or the passed day will shine

        Upon my pillow, breeding many woes,

              Save me from curious Conscience, that still lords

        Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;

              Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards,

        And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul. 

WHEN I HAVE FEARS THAT I MAY CEASE TO BE

           When I have fears that I may cease to be 

                    Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,

           Before highpiled books, in charactery,

                    Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain;

           When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,

                    Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,

           And think that I may never live to trace

                    Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;

           And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,

              That I shall never look upon thee more,


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TO SLEEP  35



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Page No 38


Never have relish in the faery power

              Of unreflecting love;then on the shore

        Of the wide world I stand alone, and think

        Till love and fame to nothingness do sink. 


Ode on a Grecian Urn and Other Poems

TO SLEEP  36



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Bookmarks



1. Table of Contents, page = 3

2. Ode on a Grecian Urn and Other Poems, page = 4

   3. John Keats, page = 4

   4. BRIGHT STAR, WOULD I WERE STEADFAST AS THOU ART , page = 4

   5. THE EVE OF ST. AGNES , page = 5

   6. FANCY , page = 20

   7. THE HUMAN SEASONS , page = 22

   8. IF BY DULL RHYMES OUR ENGLISH MUST BE CHAIN'D , page = 22

   9. LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI , page = 23

   10. LINES ON THE MERMAID TAVERN , page = 24

   11. MEG MERRILIES , page = 25

   12. ODE ON A GRECIAN URN , page = 26

   13. ODE ON MELANCHOLY , page = 28

   14. ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE , page = 29

   15. ODE TO PSYCHE , page = 31

   16. ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER , page = 33

   17. ON SITTING DOWN TO READ KING LEAR ONCE AGAIN , page = 34

   18. ROBIN HOOD , page = 34

   19. TO AUTUMN , page = 36

   20. TO HOMER , page = 37

   21. TO ONE WHO HAS BEEN LONG IN CITY PENT , page = 37

   22. TO SLEEP , page = 38

   23. WHEN I HAVE FEARS THAT I MAY CEASE TO BE , page = 38