John Keats

He ne'er is crowned with immortality
Who fears to follow where airy voices lead.

He ne'er is crowned with immortality
Who fears to follow where airy voices lead.

Hear ye not the hum
Of mighty workings?

Hear ye not the hum
Of mighty workings?

When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
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When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
That is the grasshopper's--he takes the lead
In summer luxury--he has never done
With his delights, for when tired out with fun,
He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.

But were there ever any
Writhed not at passed joy?

But were there ever any
Writhed not at passed joy?

O, sorrow!
Why dost borrow
Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?

O, sorrow!
Why dost borrow
Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?