Happy Is England! I Could Be Content Poem by John Keats
Happy Is England! I Could Be Content
Happy is England! I could be content
To see no other verdure than its own;
To feel no other breezes than are blown
Through its tall woods with high romances blent:
Yet do I sometimes feel a languishment
For skies Italian, and an inward groan
To sit upon an Alp as on a throne,
And half forget what world or worldling meant.
Happy is England, sweet her artless daughters;
Enough their simple loveliness for me,
Enough their whitest arms in silence clinging:
Yet do I often warmly burn to see
Beauties of deeper glance, and hear their singing,
And float with them about the summer waters.
in my point of view, john keats's mind was better than shakespear......i mean he wrote better.....you can read ''i stood tip-toe upon a little hill'' and you will know how..
If 'A thing of beauty is a joy forever' for Keats, then his sense of beauty cannot remain within the bounds of England. It will certainly overflow. In this poem, it actually happens. Beauties of deeper glance.... what a beautiful reflection on the concept of beauty. His mind also goes to the peaks of Alps, to the bountiness of nature. Though Keats is an English poet, his last resting place happens to be Italy. Perhaps, from his grave he may still be feeling a languishment for skies Italian! He may be longing for the peaks of Alps! May god bless him.
Extremely romantic poem with extraordinary skill and rhythm... Beautifully executed.. Life's joy...
Frankly, I cannot see that the poem has anything much to do with patriotism. And it is about happiness, but only so as to say that it can be be found only partially in England. The spirit requires more than the 'sweetness of her artless daughters'; it may desire the majestic solitude of the Alps, as well as the 'beauties of deeper glance' floating upon Italian waters.
We do love our country be it England or USA, it is our homeland, where we are comfortable, where we are familiar with its climate, its people, its society. Beautifully written- -of course- this is John Keats behind the pen.
A wonderful poem, in which John Keats uses the figurative language to paint England's nature in colors.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 6:09:34 AM # 1.0.0.1119
What a great poem! Such a nice image of what England was in Keats' eyes. I can understand why England is his Home.