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John Keats

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

To Solitude



O Solitude! if I must with thee dwell,
Let it not be among the jumbled heap
Of murky buildings; climb with me the steep, --
Nature's observatory -- whence the dell,
Its flowery slopes, its river's crystal swell,
May seem a span; let me thy vigils keep
'Mongst boughs pavilion'd, where the deer's swift leap
Startles the wild bee from the foxglove bell.
But though I'll gladly trace these scenes with thee,
Yet the sweet converse of an innocent mind,
Whose words are images of thoughts refin'd,
Is my soul's pleasure; and it sure must be
Almost the highest bliss of human-kind,
When to thy haunts two kindred spirits flee.

Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002

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  • Rookie Antonia Anthony (11/21/2006 11:47:00 AM)

    Not one of Keats finest, however, i can relate, sometimes onr just needs solitude without the complications of outside voices, breathing, and other things that human beings do.. just to be annoying! But i suspect this was writting in one of keats infamous depression-like states. (Report) Reply

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