Sonnet II: To ----


    Had I a man's fair form, then might my sighs
    Be echoed swiftly through that ivory shell
    Thine ear, and find thy gentle heart; so well
    Would passion arm me for the enterprize:
    But ah! I am no knight whose foeman dies;
    No cuirass glistens on my bosom's swell;
    I am no happy shepherd of the dell
    Whose lips have trembled with a maiden's eyes.
    Yet must I doat upon thee, call thee sweet,
    Sweeter by far than Hybla's honied roses
    When steep'd in dew rich to intoxication.
    Ah! I will taste that dew, for me 'tis meet,
    And when the moon her pallid face discloses,
    I'll gather some by spells, and incantation.


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 Sonnet II: To ---- to your own personal library.

Return to the John Keats Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; Sonnet I: To My Brother George

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