The Poetical Works of John Keats in Two Parts

ce mysterious, which whoso hears Must think on what will be, and what has been. E'en now, dear George, while this for you I write, Cynthia is from her silken curtains peeping So scantly, that it seems her bridal night, And she her half-discover'd revels keeping. But what, without the social thought of thee, Would be the wonders of the sky and sea ? Had I a man's fair form, then might my sighs Be echoed swiftly through that ivory shell Thine ear, and find thy gentle heart; so well Would passion arm me for the enterprise: But ah ! I am no knight whose foeman dies; No cuirass glistens on my bosom's swell; I am no happy shepherd of the dell Whose lips have trembled with a maiden's eyes. Yet must I doat upon thee,?call thee sweet, Sweeter by far than Hybla's honey'd roses When steep'd in dew rich to intoxication. Ah! I will taste that dew, for me 't is meet, And when the moon her pallid face discloses, I'll gather some by spells, and incantation. O Solitude ! if I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap Of murky buildings : climb with me the steep,?; Nature's observatory?whence the dell, Its flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell, May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep 'Mongst boughs pavilion'd, where the deer's swift leap Startles the wild bee from the foxglove bell. But though I'll gladly trace these scenes with thee, Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind, Whose words ar...