January grey is here, Like a sexton by her grave; February bears the bier, March with grief doth howl and rave. And April weeps-but O, ye hours, Follow with May's fairest flowers. A WIDOW BIRD A WIDOW bird sat mourning for her love The frozen wind crept on above, There was no leaf upon the forest bare, And little motion in the air Except the mill-wheel's sound. THE TWO SPIRITS First Spirit O THOU, who plumed with strong desire Wouldst float above the earth, beware! A shadow tracks the flight of fire Night is coming! Bright are the regions of the air, And among the winds and beams Second Spirit The deathless stars are bright above; If I would cross the shade of night, And the moon will smile with gentle light First Spirit But if the whirlwinds of darkness waken The red swift clouds of the hurricane Yon declining sun have overtaken; The clash of the hail sweeps over the plain- Second Spirit I see the light, and I hear the sound; I'll sail on the flood of the tempests dark, With the calm within and the light around Which makes night day: And then, when the gloom is deep and stark, Look from thy dull earth, slumber-bound; My moon-like flight thou then may'st mark On high, far away. Some say there is a precipice Where one vast pine is frozen to ruin O'er piles of snow and chasms of ice 'Mid Alpine mountains; And that the languid storm pursuing That winged shape, for ever flies Round those hoar branches, aye renewing Some say, when nights are dry and clear, Sweet whispers are heard by the traveller, And a silver shape, like his early love, doth pass Up-borne by her wild and glittering hair, And when he awakes on the fragrant grass, JOHN KEATS 1795-1821 LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI 'O WHAT can ail thee, knight-at-arms, The sedge has withered from the lake, 'O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms! So haggard and so woe-begone? 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 cheeks a fading rose Fast withereth too.' 'I met a lady in the meads, Full beautiful-a faery's child, I made a garland for her head, And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; She looked at me as she did love, And made sweet moan. 'I set her on my pacing steed And nothing else saw all day long, For sidelong would she bend, and sing A faery's song. 'She found me roots of relish sweet, And honey wild and manna-dew, And sure, in language strange, she said, "I love thee true." 'She took me to her elfin grot, And there she wept and sighed full sore: And there I shut her wild wild eyes With kisses four. 'And there she lulled me asleep, And there I dreamed-Ah! woe betide! The latest dream I ever dreamed On the cold hill's side. 'I saw pale kings and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all: 'I saw their starved lips in the gloam 'And this is why I sojourn here Alone and palely loitering, Though the sedge is withered from the lake, ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER MUCH have I travelled 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-browed 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 He stared at the Pacific-and all his men |