- A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
- Its loveliness increases; it will never
- Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
- A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
- Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
- Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
- A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
- Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
- Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
- Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways::
- Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
- Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
- From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
- Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
- For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
- With the green world they live in; and clear rills
- That for themselves a cooling covert make
- 'Gainst the hot season; the mid forest brake,
- Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
- And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
- We have imagined for the mighty dead;
- All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
- An endless fountain of immortal drink,
- Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.
- John Keats
onsdag 29. desember 2010
Endymion
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