Page:Keats, poems published in 1820 (Robertson, 1909).djvu/99

71 See, as they creep along the river side, How she doth whisper to that aged Dame, And, after looking round the champaign wide, Shows her a knife.—"What feverous hectic flame Burns in thee, child?—What good can thee betide, That thou should'st smile again?"—The evening came, And they had found Lorenzo's earthy bed; The flint was there, the berries at his head.

Who hath not loiter'd in a green church-yard, And let his spirit, like a demon-mole, Work through the clayey soil and gravel hard, To see scull, coffin'd bones, and funeral stole; Pitying each form that hungry Death hath marr'd, And filling it once more with human soul? Ah! this is holiday to what was felt When Isabella by Lorenzo knelt.