Poem by John Keats

What the Thrush Said

O Thou whose face hath felt the Winter’s wind,
Whose eye has seen the snow-clouds hung in mist,
And the black elm tops ’mong the freezing stars,
To thee the spring will be a harvest-time.
O thou, whose only book has been the light
Of supreme darkness which thou feddest on
Night after night when Phœbus was away,
To thee the Spring shall be a triple morn.
O fret not after knowledge—I have none,
And yet my song comes native with the warmth.
O fret not after knowledge—I have none,
And yet the Evening listens. He who saddens
At thought of idleness cannot be idle,
And he’s awake who thinks himself asleep.

1. Written in Answer to a Sonnet by J.H. Reynolds
2. To a Lady Seen for a Few Moments at Vauxhall
3. Song (“The stranger lighted from his steed”)
4. Song of Four Faries
5. On Receiving a Laurel Crown from Leigh Hunt

Print

1617 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version