Written on a Summer Evening
The church bells toll a melancholy round,
Calling the people to some other prayers,
Some other gloominess, more dreadful cares,
More harkening to the sermon's horrid sound.
Surely the mind of man is closely bound
In some blind spell: seeing that each one tears
Himself from fireside joys and Lydian airs,
And converse high of those with glory crowned.
Still, still they toll, and I should feel a damp,
A chill as from a tomb, did I not know
That they are dying like an outburnt lamp, -
That 'tis their sighing, wailing, ere they go
Into oblivion -that fresh flowers will grow,
And many glories of immortal stamp.
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 (Written on a Summer Evening by John Keats )
Did you read them?
- Malaria, hasmukh amathalal
- The life we have lived, Goodenough Sakhile Dlamini
- At our will, hasmukh amathalal
- See the fishes, hasmukh amathalal
- Two Become One, Loide V Augustinus
- Your Sweetness, Loide V Augustinus
- Why do you mock at my love, Nalini Chaturvedi
- Drifting Away, Loide V Augustinus
- The Eminent Reign, kyvin nash
- If you failed to, gajanan mishra