John Keats

(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821 / London, England)

Hither, Hither, Love


HITHER hither, love---
'Tis a shady mead---
Hither, hither, love!
Let us feed and feed!

Hither, hither, sweet---
'Tis a cowslip bed---
Hither, hither, sweet!
'Tis with dew bespread!

Hither, hither, dear
By the breath of life,
Hither, hither, dear!---
Be the summer's wife!

Though one moment's pleasure
In one moment flies---
Though the passion's treasure
In one moment dies;---

Yet it has not passed---
Think how near, how near!---
And while it doth last,
Think how dear, how dear!

Hither, hither, hither
Love its boon has sent---
If I die and wither
I shall die content!

Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002

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