Page:The complete poetical works and letters of John Keats, 1899.djvu/232



a Sabbath-day it fell;

Twice holy was the Sabbath-bell,

That call'd the folk to evening prayer;

The city streets were clean and fair

From wholesome drench of April rains;

And, on the western window panes,

The chilly sunset faintly told

Of unmatured green valleys cold,

Of the green thorny bloomless hedge,

Of rivers new with spring-tide sedge,

Of primroses by shelter'd rills,

And daisies on the aguish hills.

Twice holy was the Sabbath-bell:

The silent streets were crowded well

With staid and pious companies,

Warm from their fireside orat'ries;

And moving, with demurest air,

To even-song, and vesper prayer.

Each arched porch, and entry low,

Was fill'd with patient folk and slow,

With whispers hush, and shuffling feet,

While play'd the organ loud and sweet.

The bells had ceased, the prayers begun,

And Bertha had not yet half done

A curious volume, patch'd and torn,

That all day long, from earliest morn,

Had taken captive her two eyes,

Among its golden broideries;

Perplex'd her with a thousand things,—

The stars of Heaven, and angels' wings,

Martyrs in a fiery blaze,

Azure saints and silver rays,

Moses' breastplate, and the seven

Candlesticks John saw in Heaven,

The winged Lion of Saint Mark,