Sonnet XIII. Addressed To Haydon
High-mindedness, a jealousy for good,
A loving-kindness for the great man's fame,
Dwells here and there with people of no name,
In noisome alley, and in pathless wood:
And where we think the truth least understood,
Oft may be found a 'singleness of aim,'
That ought to frighten into hooded shame
A money-mongering, pitiable brood.
How glorious this affection for the cause
Of steadfast genius, toiling gallantly!
What when a stout unbending champion awes
Envy and malice to their native sty?
Unnumbered souls breathe out a still applause,
Proud to behold him in his country's eye.
John Keats's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Sonnet XIII. Addressed To Haydon by John Keats )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
Did you read them?
- More Of The Different, John deVries
- Speak about love, hasmukh amathalal
- The Petrichor, Poet Akinwemimo Idris
- Its outcome, hasmukh amathalal
- Morning, Victor Cruickshank
- unforgettable circumstance!, Steve Jackson
- A song lyric on a soft sorrow!, PARTHA SARATHI PAUL
- Leaving You, John deVries
- Bednight, Victor Cruickshank
- Utterly Lovely, John deVries