SONNET TO A YOUNG LADY WHO SENT ME A LAUREL CROWN FRESH morning gusts have blown away all fear Than the proud laurel shall content my bier. In the Sun's eye, and 'gainst my temples press By thy white fingers and thy spirit clear. Lo! who dares say, "Do this?" Who dares call down HYMN TO APOLLO I. GOD of the golden bow, And of the golden fire, Of the patient year, Where-where slept thine ire, When like a blank idiot I put on thy wreath, The light of thy story, Or was I a worm-too low crawling, for death? O Delphic Apollo ! II. The Thunderer grasp'd and grasp'd, The Thunderer frown'd and frown'd; The eagle's feathery mane For wrath became stiffen'd-the sound Went drowsily under, Muttering to be unbound. Sonnet 11 mighty] very Woodhouse. O why didst thou pity, and for a worm Till the thunder was mute, Why was not I crush'd-such a pitiful germ? III. The Pleiades were up, Watching the silent air; The seeds and roots in the Earth Was at its old labour, When, who-who did dare To tie, like a madman, thy plant round his brow, And grin and look proudly, And blaspheme so loudly, And live for that honour, to stoop to thee now? O Delphic Apollo ! SONNET As from the darkening gloom a silver dove Where happy spirits, crown'd with circlets bright Taste the high joy none but the blest can prove. There thou or joinest the immortal quire In melodies that even Heaven fair Of the omnipotent Father, cleavest the air 10 KEATS STANZAS TO MISS WYLIE I. O COME Georgiana! the rose is full blown, The air is all softness, and crystal the streams, II. O come! let us haste to the freshening shades, III. And when thou art weary I'll find thee a bed, IV. So fondly I'll breathe, and so softly I'll sigh, V. Ah! why dearest girl should we lose all these blisses? Title] Stanzas to Miss Wylie G. Keats's transcript: To Emma, Woodhouse's. I 1 Georgiana !] my dear Emma! Woodhouse. III 3 There, beauteous Emma, Woodhouse. SONNET OH! how I love, on a fair summer's eve, Full often dropping a delicious tear, 10 When some melodious sorrow spells mine eyes. SONNET BEFORE he went to feed with owls and bats Worse than an Hus'if's when she thinks her cream Made a Naumachia for mice and rats. So scared, he sent for that "Good King of Cats" Of late has haunted a most motley crew, Most loggerheads and Chapmen-we are told That any Daniel tho' he be a sot Can make the lying lips turn pale of hue By belching out "ye are that head of Gold." SONNET WRITTEN IN DISGUST OF VULGAR SUPERSTITION THE church bells toll a melancholy round, In some black spell; seeing that each one tears 10 Still, still they toll, and I should feel a damp, A chill as from a tomb, did I not know That they are dying like an outburnt lamp; That 'tis their sighing, wailing ere they go Into oblivion ;-that fresh flowers will grow, And many glories of immortal stamp. SONNET AFTER dark vapors have oppress'd our plains 10 Takes as a long-lost right the feel of May; The eyelids with the passing coolness play Like rose leaves with the drip of Summer rains. The calmest thoughts come round us; as of leaves Budding-fruit ripening in stillness-Autumn suns Smiling at eve upon the quiet sheavesSweet Sappho's cheek-a smiling infant's breathThe gradual sand that through an hour-glass runsA woodland rivulet-a Poet's death. SONNET [Written at the end of" The Floure and the Lefe"] THIS pleasant tale is like a little copse: Come cool and suddenly against his face, Meekly upon the grass, as those whose sobbings 11 10 |