JOHN KEATS
Fell her kirtle to her feet,
While she held the goblet sweet,
And Jove grew languid. Break the mesh
Of the Fancy's silken leash,
Quickly break her prison-string,
And such joys as these she'll bring.
Let the winged Fancy roam,
Pleasure never is at home.
Stanzas
IN a drear-nigh ted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember
Their green felicity The north cannot undo them, With a sleety whistle through them; Nor frozen thawings glue them From budding at the prime.
In a drear-nighted December,
Too happy, happy brook, Thy bubblmgs ne'er remember
Apollo's summer look, But with a sweet forgetting, They stay their crystal fretting, Never, never petting
About the frozen time.
Ah! would 'twere so with many
A gentle girl and boyf But were there ever any
Writhed not at passed joy?
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