 | Poems |  |
169
TO A LADY
WITH THE “POEMS OF JOHN KEATS.”
Are not rarest melodies
Played on silver strings?
Look we not to gentle lips
For gentle-spoken things?
Sounds not joy the dearer
From a joyous tongue?
Seems not sorrow nearer
Sorrowfully sung?
Played on silver strings?
Look we not to gentle lips
For gentle-spoken things?
Sounds not joy the dearer
From a joyous tongue?
Seems not sorrow nearer
Sorrowfully sung?
Therefore these rare melodies
Send I thee to-day;
To a gentle-hearted lady—
A gentle-hearted lay!
And it shall be for ever
A pleasant friend to thee,
For to wiser poet never
Could truer reader be.
Send I thee to-day;
To a gentle-hearted lady—
A gentle-hearted lay!
And it shall be for ever
A pleasant friend to thee,
For to wiser poet never
Could truer reader be.
| Poems | |