what's o'clock
141
Mr. Keats, plodding through wet clay,
Is aware of a certain direct effect
Of joy in his heart. He stands erect.
Surely the mist is silvering
His footsteps sound with a livelier ring.
If anything glitters in Teignmouth streets
This afternoon, it is John Keats.
Is aware of a certain direct effect
Of joy in his heart. He stands erect.
Surely the mist is silvering
His footsteps sound with a livelier ring.
If anything glitters in Teignmouth streets
This afternoon, it is John Keats.
Mr. Bartlett is hurrying by
At a speed which announces that minutes fly,
But he pauses briefly just to say
"Ah, Mr. Keats, how are you to-day?
The sun? Oh, very shortly now.
We shall be scorched before we know.
Didn't you hear the crows this morning?
They always give one plenty of warning.
And Mrs. Bartlett talks of house-cleaning,
Every married man can read the meaning
Of that. When the women begin to clack
At a speed which announces that minutes fly,
But he pauses briefly just to say
"Ah, Mr. Keats, how are you to-day?
The sun? Oh, very shortly now.
We shall be scorched before we know.
Didn't you hear the crows this morning?
They always give one plenty of warning.
And Mrs. Bartlett talks of house-cleaning,
Every married man can read the meaning
Of that. When the women begin to clack
