JOHN KEATS
Saw two fair creatures, couched side by side
In deepest grass, beneath the whisp'ring roof
Of leaves and trembled blossoms, where there ran
A brooklet, scarce espied. 'Mid hush'd, cool-rooted flowers fragrant-eyed,
Blue, silver-white, and budded Tyrian They lay calm-breathing on the bedded grass;
Their arms embraced, and their pinions too;
Their lips touch'd not, but had not bade adieu, As if disjoined by soft-handed slumber, And ready still past kisses to outnumber
At tender eye-dawn of aurorean love: The winged boy I knew;
But who wast thou, O happy, happy dove? His Psyche true!
O latest-born and loveliest vision far
Of all Olympus' faded hierarchy f Faiicr than Phoebe's sapphire-region'd star,
Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky; Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none,
Nor altar heap'd with flowers; Nor Virgin-choir to make delicious moan
Upon the midnight hours; No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet
From chain-swung censer teeming; No shrme, no grove, no oracle, no heat
Of pale-mouth'd prophet dreaming.
O brightest^ though too late for antique vows, Too, too late for the fond believing lyre,
When holy were the haunted forest boughs, Holy the air, the water, and the fire;
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