JOHN KEATS
And always, at the rising of the sun, About the wilds they hunt with spear and horn. On spleenful unicorn.
I saw Osirian Egypt kneel adown
Before the vine-wreath crown! I saw parch'd Abyssinia rouse and sing I saw the whelming vintage hotly pierce
Old Tartary the fierce'
The kings of Ind their jewel-sceptres vail, And from their treasures scatter pearled hail; Great Brahma from his mystic heaven groans,
And all his priesthood moans, Before young Bacchus' eye-wink turning pale. Into these regions came I, following him,
Sick-hearted, weary so I took a whim
To stray away into these forests drear,
Alone, without a peer: And I have told thec all thou mayest hear.
Young Stranger!
I've been a ranger In search of pleasure throughout every clime;
Alas' 'tis not for me'
Bcwitch'd I sure must be, To lose in grieving all my maiden prime.
Come then, Sorrow,
Sweetest Sorrow' Like an own babe I nurse thee on my breast:
I thought to leave thee,
And deceive thee, But now of all the world I love thee best.
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