"As sweet as window-eglantine,
Some bough of which, as they decline,
The hired nurse gathers at their sign:
"As sweet, in short, as perfumed shroud
Which the gay Roman maidens sewed
For English Keats, singing aloud."
The lady answered, "Yea, as sweet!
The things thou namest being complete
In fragrance, as I measure it.
"Since sweet the death-clothes and the knell
Of him who having lived, dies well;
And wholly sweet the asphodel
"Stirred softly by that foot of his,
When he treads brave on all that is,
Into the world of souls, from this.
"Since sweet the tears, dropped at the door
Of tearless Death, and even before:
Sweet, consecrated evermore.
"What, dost thou judge it a strange thing
That poets, crowned for vanquishing,
Should bear some dust from out the ring?
"Come on with me, come on with me,
And learn in coming: let me free
Thy spirit into verity."
She ceased: her palfrey's paces sent
No separate noises as she went;
'Twas a bee's hum, a little spent.
And while the poet seemed to tread
Along the drowsy noise so made,
The forest heaved up overhead