Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/247

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 * And all around it dipp'd luxuriously
 * Slopings of verdure through the glossy tide,
 * Which, as it were in gentle amity,
 * Rippled delighted up the flowery side;
 * As if to glean the ruddy tears it tried,
 * Which fell profusely from the rose-tree stem!
 * Haply it was the workings of its pride,
 * In strife to throw upon the shore a gem

Outvying all the buds in Flora's diadem.

 

heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
 * My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,

Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
 * One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:

'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
 * But being too happy in thy happiness,—
 * That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees,
 * In some melodious plot
 * Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,

Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

O for a draught of vintage, that hath been
 * Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth,

Tasting of Flora and the country-green,
 * Dance, and Provencal song, and sun-burnt mirth!

O for a beaker full of the warm South,
 * Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, 