Sweet flower! that peeping from thy russet stem
Unfoldest timidly, (for in strange sort
This dark, frieze-coated, hoarse, teeth-chattering month
Hath borrowed Zephyr’s voice, and gazed upon thee
With blue voluptuous eye) alas poor flower!
Poetry object
No piece of art is perfect. / All it has to do is stay around / for two hundred, or…
John Keats, you suggested that a poem should come
out complete,
as certain and as surely as a leaf upon a tree,
but preferably,
not as slowly.
Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses,
/ In you let the minions of luxury rove,
/ Restore me the rocks where the…
I wandered lonely as a Cloud
/ That floats on high o’er Vales and Hills,
/ When all at once I saw a crowd
/ A…
She walks in beauty, like the night
/ Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
/ And all that’s best of dark…
I
/ So, we’ll go no more a-roving
/ So late into the night,
/ Though the heart be still as loving,
/ …
Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness,
/ Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time,
/ Sylvan historian, who canst thus express…
Much have I travell’d in the realms of gold,
/ And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
/ …
an extract
/
/ Part III
/
/ There passed a weary time. Each throat
/ Was parched, and glazed each eye.
/ A weary time! a weary…
