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Poem by John Keats

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Hush, hush! tread softly! hush, hush, my dear!
All the house is asleep, but we know very well
That the jealous, the jealous old bald-pate may hear,
Tho youve padded his night-cap  O sweet Isabel!
Tho your feet are more light than a Faerys feet,
Who dances on bubbles where brooklets meet, 
Hush, hush! soft tiptoe! hush, hush, my dear!
For less than a nothing the jealous can hear.


No leaf doth tremble, no ripple is there
On the river,  alls still, and the nights sleepy eye
Closes up, and forgets all its Lethean care,
Charmd to death by the drone of the humming May-fly;
And the moon, whether prudish or complaisant
Has fled to her bower, well knowing I want:
No light in the dusk, no torch in the gloom,
But my Isabels eyes, and her lips pulpd with bloom.


Lift the latch! ah gently! ah tenderly  sweet!
We are dead if that latchet gives one little clink!
Well done  now those lips, and a flowery seat 
The old man may sleep, and the planets may wink;
The shut rose shall dream of our loves and awake
Full-blown, and such warmth for the morning take,
The stock-dove shall hatch his soft twin-eggs and coo,
While I kiss to the melody, aching all through!


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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