'Tis well you think me truly one of those, Whose sense discerns the loveliness of things; For surely as I feel the bird that sings Behind the leaves, or dawn as it up grows, Or the rich bee rejoicing as he goes, Or the glad issue of emerging springs, Or overhead the glide of a dove's wings, Or turf, or trees, or, midst of all, repose. And surely as I feel things lovelier still, The human look, and the harmonious form Containing woman, and the smile in ill, And such a heart as Charles's, wise and warm, -- As surely as all this, I see, ev'n now, Young Keats, a flowering laurel on your brow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE EAGLE OF THE BLUE by HERMAN MELVILLE TO A POET THAT DIED YOUNG by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY TO GERMANY by CHARLES HAMILTON SORLEY HUSH OF TWILIGHT by G. KENYON ASHENDEN EPIGRAM by DECIMUS MAGNUS AUSONIUS TWO SONNETS FROM NEW YORK: QUESTIONS by ADELAIDE NICHOLS BAKER ON THE DISCOVERIES OF CAPTAIN LEWIS [JANUARY 14, 1807] by JOEL BARLOW |