Poem by John Keats

To ******

   Sonnet

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 enterprize:
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 honied roses
When steep'd in dew rich to intoxication.
Ah! I will taste that dew, for me 'tis meet,
And when the moon her pallid face discloses,
I'll gather some by spells, and incantation. 

1. What the Thrush Said
2. Written in Answer to a Sonnet by J.H. Reynolds
3. To a Lady Seen for a Few Moments at Vauxhall
4. Song (“The stranger lighted from his steed”)
5. Song of Four Faries

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