JOHN KEATS

Shaded hyacinth, alway Sapphire queen of the mid-May; And every leaf, and every flower Pearled with the self-same shower. Thou shah see the fieldmouse peep Meagre from its celled sleep; And the snake all winter-thin Cast on sunny bank its skin ; Freckled nest-eggs thou shalt see Hatching in the hawthorn-tree, When the hen-bird's wing doth rest Quiet on her mossy nest; Then the hurry and alarm When the beehive casts its swarm ; Acorns ripe down-pattering While the autumn breezes sing.

O sweet Fancy ! let her loose ; Every thing is spoilt by use: Where's the cheek that doth not fade, Too much gazed at? Where's the maid Whose lip mature is ever new ? Where's the eye, however blue, Doth not weary? Where's the face One would meet in every place ? Where 's the voice, however soft, One would hear so very oft? At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth Like to bubbles when rain pelteth. Let, then, winged Fancy find Thee a mistress to thy mind : Dulcet-eyed as Ceres' daughter, Ere the God of Torment taught her

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