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Poem by John Keats
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I. 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’ you’ve padded his night-cap — O sweet Isabel! Tho’ your feet are more light than a Faery’s 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. II. No leaf doth tremble, no ripple is there On the river, — all’s still, and the night’s sleepy eye Closes up, and forgets all its Lethean care, Charm’d 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 Isabel’s eyes, and her lips pulp’d with bloom. III. 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!
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