MOTHER of Hermes! and still youthful Maia!
May I sing to thee
As thou wast hymned on the shores of Baiae?
Or may I woo thee
In earlier Sicilian? or thy smiles
Seek as they once were sought, in Grecian isles,
By bards who died content on pleasant sward,
Leaving great verse unto a little clan?
O give me their old vigour! and unheard
Save of the quiet primrose, and the span
Of heaven, and few ears,
Rounded by thee, my song should die away
Content as theirs,
Rich in the simple worship of a day.
|About the poet|
|By the same poet|
|On first looking into Chapman's Homer|
|The Realm of Fancy|
|Ode on a Grecian Urn|
|Ode to a Nightingale|
|Ode to Psyche|
|Ode on Melancholy|
|Bards of Passion and of Mirth|
|La Belle Dame sans Merci|
|When I have Fears that I may cease to be|
|John Keats at amazon.co.uk|