JOHN KEATS

O Sorrow !

Why dost borrow The mellow ditties from a mourning tongue ?

To give at evening pale

Unto the nightingale, That thou mayst listen the cold dews among ?

Sorrow ! Why dost borrow

Heart's lightness from the merriment of May ?

A lover would not tread

A cowslip on the head, Though he should dance from eve till peep of day-

Nor any drooping flower

Held sacred for thy bower, Wherever he may sport himself and play.

To Sorrow

1 bade good morrow,

And thought to leave her far away behind ;

But cheerly, cheerly,

She loves me dearly; She is so constant to me, and so kind:

I would deceive her,

And so leave her, But ah ! she is so constant and so kind.

Beneath my palm-trees, by the river side, I sat a-weeping : in the whole world wide There was no one to ask me why I wept,

And so I kept Brimming the water-lily cups with tears

Cold as my fears.

�� �