Sonnet: On The Sea


    It keeps eternal whisperings around
    Desolate shores, and with its mighty swell
    Gluts twice ten thousand caverns, till the spell
    Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound.
    Often 'tis in such gentle temper found
    That scarcely will the very smallest shell
    Be mov'd for days from whence it sometime fell,
    When last the winds of heaven were unbound.
    Oh ye! who have your eye-balls vex'd and tir'd,
    Feast them upon the wideness of the Sea;
    Oh ye! whose ears are dinn'd with uproar rude,
    Or fed too much with cloying melody,
    Sit ye near some old cavern's mouth, and brood
    Until ye start, as if the sea-nymphs quir'd!


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: On The Sea to your own personal library.

Return to the John Keats Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; Sonnet: The Day Is Gone

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