Hence Burgundy, Claret, and Port,
Away with old Hock and madeira,
Too earthly ye are for my sport;
There's a beverage brighter and clearer.
Instead of a piriful rummer,
My wine overbrims a whole summer;
My bowl is the sky,
And I drink at my eye,
Till I feel in the brain
A Delphian pain -
Then follow, my Caius! then follow:
On the green of the hill
We will drink our fill
Of golden sunshine,
Till our brains intertwine
With the glory and grace of Apollo!
God of the Meridian,
And of the East and West,
To thee my soul is flown,
And my body is earthward press'd. -
It is an awful mission,
A terrible division;
And leaves a gulph austere
To be fill'd with worldly fear.
Aye, when the soul is fled
To high above our head,
Affrighted do we gaze
After its airy maze,
As doth a mother wild,
When her young infant child
Is in an eagle's claws -
And is not this the cause
Of madness? - God of Song,
Thou bearest me along
Through sights I scarce can bear:
O let me, let me share
With the hot lyre and thee,
The staid Philosophy.
Temper my lonely hours,
And let me see thy bowers
More unalarm'd!
As in any other poems of the great poet this poem also feels sadness and very good words.
Wonderful way to poetically portray Nature's healing spirit...
The poetry of Keats is characterized by sensual imagery, most notably in the series of odes. Today his poems and letters are some of the most popular and most analyzed in English literature. Anf that is my subject and accidentally he is my most favourite all poets all times. Too saddest, he became world famous after his death still 24 years old, he died OTW back to England from sunny Italy. He wanted to be buried in his country.
Aye, when the soul is fled To high above our head, Affrighted do we gaze After its airy maze, great 10++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
A thoughtfully envisioned profound life song reflecting different aspects of the personality of the poet inclusive of the melancholia that occasionally grips him.
So happy to see a genuine poem being picked, the genius of Keats stands the test of time and always will!
From meditative hours arises beautiful poetry. Same hours bring frightful images. Keats had faced them and utilized them so skillfully to create this marvelous poem.
O let me, let me share With the hot lyre and thee, The staid Philosophy. Temper my lonely hours, And let me see thy bowers More unalarm'd! outstanding conceptualization. This is one of the beautiful poem by Jojn Keats.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
always loved john keats for his simplicity and soberness........