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Poem by John Keats


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After dark vapours have oppressed our plains
For a long dreary season, comes a day
Born of the gentle South, and clears away
From the sick heavens all unseemly stains.
The anxious month, relievèd of its pains,
Takes as a long-lost right the feel of May;
The eyelids with the passing coolness play,
Like rose leaves with the drip of summer rains.
The calmest thoughts come round usas of leaves
Budding,fruit ripening in stillness,autumn suns
Smiling at eve upon the quiet sheaves,
Sweet Sapphos cheek;a smiling infants breath,
The gradual sand that through an hour-glass runs,
A woodland rivulet, a Poets death.



John Keats


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


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