KEATS

(1821-1921)

When sometimes, on a moony night, I've passed

A street-lamp, seen my doubled shadow flee,

The full moon poured her silhouette of me.

Limns with a ray more pure, and tenderer too:

Surpass the shapes they show by human view.

Her youngest son, to save us, Beauty flung.

And comforts yet the ardent and the young.

Dizzy with stars, his mortal fever ran:

Not free from folly—for he too was man.

Where topless towers shadow golden streets,

Perfectly happy ... talking about Keats.

This is a day for sonnets: Oh how clear

Our splendid cliffs and summits lift the gaze—

Were poured and gathered in one sudden blaze,
Then, then perhaps, in some endowered phrase

To tell of you. Your beauty and your praise

Proud and perennial on this pale bright sky;

Of Time, the dusty wrecker. He would sigh