John Keats

Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; read more

Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music:--do I wake or sleep?

The poetry of the earth is never dead.

The poetry of the earth is never dead.

Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I read more

Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown.

And on the balmy zephyrs tranquil rest
The silver clouds.
- John Keats,

And on the balmy zephyrs tranquil rest
The silver clouds.
- John Keats,

'Tis the witching hour of night,
Orbed is the moon and bright,
And the stars they glisten, read more

'Tis the witching hour of night,
Orbed is the moon and bright,
And the stars they glisten, glisten,
Seeming with bright eyes to listen-
For what listen they?