Page 577

John Keats. (1795–1821) (continued)

5942

The poetry of earth is never dead.

On the Grasshopper and Cricket.

5943

Nought but a lovely sighing of the wind
Along the reedy stream; a half-heard strain,
Full of sweet desolation—balmy pain.

I stood tip-toe upon a little Hill.

5944

There is not a fiercer hell than the failure in a great object.

Preface to Endymion.

5945

Bards of Passion and of Mirth,
Ye have left your souls on earth!
Have ye souls in heaven too?

Ode to the fair Maid of the Inn.

5946

Ay, in the very temple of Delight
Veil’d Melancholy has her sovran shine.

Ode on Melancholy. Stanza 3.

5947

It keeps eternal whisperings around
Desolate shores, and with its mighty swell
Gluts twice ten thousand caverns.

Sonnet. On the Sea.

5948

The sweet converse of an innocent mind.

Sonnet. To Solitude.

5949

She no tear—O shed no tear!
The flower will bloom another year.
Weep no more—O weep no more!
Young buds sleep in the root’s white core.

Faery Song 1.

5950

The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast.

Sonnet The Day is gone.

5951

Mortality
Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep.

Sonnet. On seeing the Elgin Marbles.

5952

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art—
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night