John Bartlett (1820–1905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919.
Page 576
| John Keats. (1795–1821) (continued) |
| 5934 |
| Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time. |
| Ode on a Grecian Urn. |
| 5935 |
| 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. |
| Ode on a Grecian Urn. |
| 5936 |
| Thou, silent form, doth tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! |
| Ode on a Grecian Urn. |
| 5937 |
| Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know. |
| Ode on a Grecian Urn. |
| 5938 |
| In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne’er remember Their green felicity. |
| Stanzas. |
| 5939 |
| Hear ye not the hum Of mighty workings? |
| Addressed to Haydon. Sonnet x. |
| 5940 |
| 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 deep-brow’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 stared at the Pacific, and all his men Look’d at each other with a wild surmise, Silent, upon a peak in Darien. |
| On first looking into Chapman’s Homer. |
| 5941 |
| E’en like the passage of an angel’s tear That falls through the clear ether silently. |
| To One who has been long in City pent. |