John Keats (1795–1821). The Poetical Works of John Keats. 1884.

22. Keen, fitful gusts are whisp’ring here and there

KEEN, fitful gusts are whisp’ring here and there

Among the bushes half leafless, and dry;

The stars look very cold about the sky,

And I have many miles on foot to fare.

Yet feel I little of the cool bleak air,

Or of the dead leaves rustling drearily,

Or of those silver lamps that burn on high,

Or of the distance from home’s pleasant lair:

For I am brimfull of the friendliness

That in a little cottage I have found;

Of fair-hair’d Milton’s eloquent distress,

And all his love for gentle Lycid drown’d;

Of lovely Laura in her light green dress,

And faithful Petrarch gloriously crown’d.