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Poem by John Keats


To the Nile


Son of the old Moon-mountains African!
Chief of the Pyramid and Crocodile!
We call thee fruitful, and that very while
A desert fills our seeings inward span:
Nurse of swart nations since the world began,
Art thou so fruitful? or dost thou beguile
Such men to honour thee, who, worn with toil,
Rest for a space twixt Cairo and Decan?
O may dark fancies err! They surely do;
Tis ignorance that makes a barren waste
Of all beyond itself. Thou dost bedew
Green rushes like our rivers, and dost taste
The pleasant sunrise. Green isles hast thou too,
And to the sea as happily dost haste.



John Keats

Poem Themes: Nile, Rivers

John Keats's other poems:
  1. Calidore
  2. The Poet
  3. Specimen of Induction to a Poem
  4. To (Hadst Thou Livd in Days of Old)
  5. The Castle Builder


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Percy Shelley To the Nile ("Month after month the gathered rains descend") 1818

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