Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/37



And stare them from me? But no, like a spark That needs must die, although its little beam Reflects upon a diamond, my sweet dream Fell into nothing—into stupid sleep. And so it was, until a gentle creep, A careful moving caught my waking ears, And up I started: Ah! my sighs, my tears, My clenched hands;—for lo! the poppies hung Dew-dabbled on their stalks, the ouzel sung A heavy ditty, and the sullen day Had chidden herald Hesperus away, With leaden looks: the solitary breeze Bluster'd, and slept, and its wild self did tease With wayward melancholy; and I thought, Mark me, Peona! that sometimes it brought Faint fare-thee wells, and sigh-shrilled adieus!— Away I wander'd—all the pleasant hues Of heaven and earth had faded: deepest shades Were deepest dungeons; heaths and sunny glades Were full of pestilent light; our taintless rills Seem'd sooty, and o'erspread with upturn'd gills Of dying fish; the vermeil rose had blown In frightful scarlet, and its thorns outgrown Like spiked aloe. If an innocent bird Before my heedless footsteps stirr'd, and stirr'd In little journeys, I beheld in it A disguised demon, missioned to knit My soul with under darkness; to entice My stumblings down some monstrous precipice: Therefore I eager follow'd, and did curse The disappointment. Time, that aged nurse, Rock'd me to patience. Now, thank gentle heaven!