JOHN KEATS
And the snake all winter-thin Cast on sunny bank its skin; Freckled nest-eggs thou shalt see Hatching in the hawthorn-tree, When the hen-bird's wing doth rest Quiet on her mossy nest; Then the hurry and alarm When the beehive casts its swarm; Acorns ripe down-pattering While the autumn breezes sing.
��O sweet Fancy ' let her loose; Every thing is spoilt by use* Where 's the cheek that doth not fade, Too much gazed at ? Where 's the maid Whose lip mature is ever new? Where 's the eye, however blue, Doth not weary ? Where *s the face One would meet in every place ? Where J s the voice, however soft, One would hear so very oft ? At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth Like lo bubbles when rain pelteth. Let, then, winged Fancy find Thee a mistress to thy mind. Dulcet-eyed as Ceres' daughter, Ere the God of Torment taught her How to frown and how to chide; With a waist and with a side White as Hebe's, when her zone Slipt its golden clasp, and down
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