Poem by John Keats

Written in Disgust of Vulgar Superstition

The church bells toll a melancholy round,
Calling the people to some other prayers,
Some other gloominess, more dreadful cares,
More harkening to the sermon's horrid sound.
Surely the mind of man is closely bound
In some blind spell: seeing that each one tears
Himself from fireside joys and Lydian airs,
And converse high of those with glory crowned.
Still, still they toll, and I should feel a damp,
A chill as from a tomb, did I not know
That they are dying like an outburnt lamp, -
That 'tis their sighing, wailing, ere they go
Into oblivion -that fresh flowers will grow,
And many glories of immortal stamp.

1. Song Written on a Blank Page in Beaumont and Fletcher's Works between 'Cupid's Revenge' and 'The Two Noble Kinsmen'
2. Song (“I had a dove and the sweet dove died”)
3. Fragment of an Ode to Maia
4. A Spenserian Stanza
5. Sweet, Sweet Is the Greeting of Eyes

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