For after the rain, when with never a stain The pavilion of heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams, with their convex gleams, Build up the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again. S FAERY SONG JOHN KEATS HED no tear! oh shed no tear! The flowers will bloom another year. Weep no more! oh weep no more! Young buds sleep in the root's white core. To ease my breast of melodies Shed no tear. Overhead! look overhead! 'Mong the blossoms white and red- Shed no tear! oh shed no tear! I vanish in the heaven's blue Adieu! adieu! MEG MERRILIES JOHN KEATS LD Meg she was a gypsy, Her bed it was the brown heath turf, Her apples were swart blackberries, Her currants, pods o' broom; Her wine was dew of the wild white rose, Her book a churchyard tomb. Her brothers were the craggy hills, Her sisters larchen trees; Alone with her great family She lived as she did please. No breakfast had she many a morn, No dinner many a noon, And, 'stead of supper, she would stare Full hard against the moon. But every morn, of woodbine fresh She made her garlanding, And, every night, the dark glen yew And with her fingers, old and brown, And gave them to the cottagers She met among the bushes. Old Meg was brave as Margaret Queen, And tall as Amazon; An old red blanket cloak she wore, A ship-hat had she on : God rest her aged bones somewhere! SONG JOHN KEATS HAD a dove, and the sweet dove died; Why, pretty thing! would you not live with me? |