Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/293

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A spacious looking-glass, upon whose face, In letters raven-sombre, you may trace Old "Mene, Mene, Tekel Upharsin." Greek busts and statuary have ever been Held, by the finest spirits, fitter far Than vase grotesque and Siamesian jar; Therefore 'tis sure a want of attic taste That I should rather love a gothic waste Of eyesight on cinque-colored potter's clay, Than on the marble fairness of old Greece. My table-coverlits of Jason's fleece And black Numidian sheep-wool should be wrought, Gold, black, and heavy from the Lama brought. My ebon sofas should delicious be With down from Leda's cygnet progeny My pictures all Salvator's, save a few Of Titian's portraiture, and one, though new, Of Haydon's in its fresh magnificence. My wine—O good! 'tis here at my desire, And I must sit to supper with my friar.