Dedication To Leigh Hunt, Esq.

by John Keats

    Glory and loveliness have pass'd away;
    For if we wander out in early morn,
    No wreathed incense do we see upborne
    Into the east, to meet the smiling day:
    No crowd of nymphs soft voic'd and young, and gay,
    In woven baskets bringing ears of corn,
    Roses, and pinks, and violets, to adorn
    The shrine of Flora in her early May.
    But there are left delights as high as these,
    And I shall ever bless my destiny,
    That in a time, when under pleasant trees
    Pan is no longer sought, I feel a free,
    A leafy luxury, seeing I could please
    With these poor offerings, a man like thee.