Page:The complete poetical works and letters of John Keats, 1899.djvu/276

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wedding fiddles are a-playing,

Huzza for folly O!

And when maidens go a-Maying,

Huzza, etc.

When a milk-pail is upset,

Huzza, etc.

And the clothes left in the wet,

Huzza, etc.

When the barrel 's set abroach,

Huzza, etc.

When Kate Eyebrow keeps a coach,

Huzza, etc.

When the pig is over-roasted,

Huzza, etc.

And the cheese is over-toasted.

Huzza, etc.

When Sir Snap is with his lawyer,

Huzza, etc.

And Miss Chip has kiss'd the sawyer;

Huzza, etc.

I am frighten'd with most hateful thoughts!

Perhaps her voice is not a nightingale's,

Perhaps her teeth are not the fairest pearl;

Her eye-lashes may be, for aught I know,

Not longer than the May-fly's small fan-horns;

There may not be one dimple on her hand;

And freckles many; ah! a careless nurse,

In haste to teach the little thing to walk,

May have crumpt up a pair of Dian's legs,

And warpt the ivory of a Juno's neck.

stranger lighted from his steed,

And ere he spake a word,

He seiz'd my lady's lily hand,

And kiss'd it all unheard.

The stranger walk'd into the hall,

And ere he spake a word,

He kiss'd my lady's cherry lips,

And kiss'd 'em all unheard.

The stranger walk'd into the bower,—

But my lady first did go,—

Ay hand in hand into the bower,

Where my lord's roses blow.

My lady's maid had a silken scarf,

And a golden ring had she,

And a kiss from the stranger, as off he went

Again on his palfrey.

O sleep a little while, white pearl!

And let me kneel, and let me pray to thee,

And let me call Heaven's blessing on thine eyes,

And let me breathe into the happy air,

That doth enfold and touch thee all about,

Vows of my slavery, my giving up,

My sudden adoration, my great love!

Georgiana! the rose is full blown,

The riches of Flora are lavishly strown,

The air is all softness, and crystal the streams;

The West is resplendently clothed in beams.

O come! let us haste to the freshening shades,

The quaintly carv'd seats, and the opening glades;

Where the faeries are chanting their evening hymns,

And the last sun-beam the sylph lightly swims.

And when thou art weary, I 'll find thee a bed

Of mosses and flowers to pillow thy head:

And there Georgiana I 'll sit at thy feet,

While my story of love I enraptur'd repeat.

So fondly I 'll breathe, and so softly I 'll sigh,

Thou wilt think that some amorous zephyr is nigh;

Yet no—as I breathe I will press thy fair knee,

And then thou wilt know that the sigh comes from me.

Ah! why, dearest girl, should we lose all these blisses?

That mortal 's a fool who such happiness misses:

So smile acquiescence, and give me thy hand,

With love-looking eyes, and with voice sweetly bland.

'My dear Reynolds,' writes Keats from Teignmouth, March 25, 1818, 'In hopes of cheering you through a minute or two, I was