Unfelt unheard, unseen,
    I've left my little queen,
    Her languid arms in silver slumber lying:
    Ah! through their nestling touch,
    Who, who could tell how much
    There is for madness, cruel, or complying?


    Those faery lids how sleek!
    Those lips how moist! they speak,
    In ripest quiet, shadows of sweet sounds:
    Into my fancy's ear
    Melting a burden dear,
    How "Love doth know no fullness, nor no bounds."


    True, tender monitors!
    I bend unto your laws:
    This sweetest day for dalliance was born!
    So, without more ado,
    I'll feel my heaven anew,
    For all the blushing of the hasty morn.


facebook share button twitter share button google plus share button tumblr share button reddit share button email share button share on pinterest pinterest

Create a library and add your favorite stories. Get started by clicking the "Add" button.
Add Lines to your own personal library.

Return to the John Keats Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; Lines On Seeing A Lock Of Milton's Hair

Anton Chekhov
Nathaniel Hawthorne
Susan Glaspell
Mark Twain
Edgar Allan Poe
Mary E. Wilkins Freeman
Herman Melville
Stephen Leacock
Kate Chopin
Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson