 | The poems of John Keats (1915) |  |
71
II. TO THE LADIES WHO SAW ME CROWN'D
What is there in the universal earthMore lovely than a wreath from the bay tree?
Haply a halo round the moon—a glee
Circling from three sweet pair of lips in mirth;
And haply you will say the dewy birth
Of morning roses—ripplings tenderly
Spread by the halcyon's breast upon the sea—
But these comparisons are nothing worth.
Then is there nothing in the world so fair?
The silvery tears of April? Youth of May?
Or June that breathes out life for butterflies?
No—none of these can from my favorite bear
Away the palm—yet shall it ever pay
Due reverence to your most sovereign eyes.
| The poems of John Keats (1915) | |