 | Fantasy and Passion |  |
186
III. KEATS.
It fell, in youthful hours, that he should stray
To some enchanted garden's magic gate,
And being elect that he should pass elate
Where long parterres of blossoming splendor lay.
But while he gathered many a fragrant spray,
In passionate rapture and in wonder great,
Death, gliding up to him with eyes like fate
And cold implacable hand, led him away!
To some enchanted garden's magic gate,
And being elect that he should pass elate
Where long parterres of blossoming splendor lay.
But while he gathered many a fragrant spray,
In passionate rapture and in wonder great,
Death, gliding up to him with eyes like fate
And cold implacable hand, led him away!
Yet later, lingering briefly among men,
He dropt before the world's feet those few flowers
Whose color and odor brave all blight of years,
And the rare radiance of whose bloom, since then,
Pathos, their sweet attendant, ever dowers
With the soft silver dews of pitying tears!
He dropt before the world's feet those few flowers
Whose color and odor brave all blight of years,
And the rare radiance of whose bloom, since then,
Pathos, their sweet attendant, ever dowers
With the soft silver dews of pitying tears!
| Fantasy and Passion | |