And thou art Nature’s gift and sentinel,
Watching her in keen earnestness,
And thou art Pastoral’s original
Pathfinder of lofty exactness.
Thy words reveal the sylvan beauty
With whom you briefly flirted;
You thought it was your divine duty
That all the gods concerted.
So spirits of flora and fauna were captured:
Leaving thy acolytes thoroughly enraptured!
While you Stood Tip-Toe upon a hill,
And watched Nature’s gentle doings,
These were times when all stood still
And watched poesy brewing.
My mind now sees the cozy glen
‘neath the trees and with a book
The pages turn I know not when
Lost in lilies and the brook.
And ere Fancy takes me to her heart,
Sorrow leaves me as I depart.
12th May 2009
Copyright © SC
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
iam a big fan of keats! this poem is really a special tribute to Keats- the great