Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/270

254

 Nurse of swart nations since the world began Art thou so fruitful? or dost thou beguile Those men to honor thee, who, worn with toil, Rest them 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 sun-rise. Green isles hast thou too, And to the sea as happily dost haste.

 

