Sonnet: On Leigh Hunt's Poem 'The Story of Rimini.'

by John Keats

    Who loves to peer up at the morning sun,
    With half-shut eyes and comfortable cheek,
    Let him with this sweet tale full often seek
    For meadows where the little rivers run;
    Who loves to linger with that brightest one
    Of Heaven, Hesperus, let him lowly speak
    These numbers to the night and starlight meek,
    Or moon, if that her hunting be begun.
    He who knows these delights, and, too, is prone
    To moralize upon a smile or tear,
    Will find at once a region of his own,
    A bower for his spirit, and will steer
    To alleys where the fir-tree drops its cone,
    Where robins hop, and fallen leaves are sear.