John Keats

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

To The Nile - Poem by John Keats

Son of the old Moon-mountains African!
Chief of the Pyramid and Crocodile!
We call thee fruitful, and that very while
A desert fills our seeing's inward span:
Nurse of swart nations since the world began,
Art thou so fruitful? or dost thou beguile
Such men to honour thee, who, worn with toil,
Rest for a space 'twixt Cairo and Decan?
O may dark fancies err! They surely do;
'Tis ignorance that makes a barren waste
Of all beyond itself. Thou dost bedew
Green rushes like our rivers, and dost taste
The pleasant sunrise. Green isles hast thou too,
And to the sea as happily dost haste.


Comments about To The Nile by John Keats

  • (7/5/2018 10:28:00 PM)


    imaginative and very attractive poem....soooo nice (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: green, son, moon, sea, dark, world, river



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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