Category: Sonnets

Time’s Sea Hath Been Five Years at Its Slow Ebb

To a lady whom he saw for some moments at Vauxhall. Time’s sea hath been five years at its low ebb, Long hours have to and fro let creep the sand, Since I was tangled in thy beauty’s web, And snared by the ungloving of thine hand. And yet I never look on midnight sky, …

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Written On The Blank Space Of A Leaf At The End Of Chaucer’s Tale Of “The Flowre And The Lefe.”

Other Sonnets of John Keats→ This pleasant tale is like a little copse, The honeyed lines so freshly interlace To keep the reader in so sweet a place; So that he here and there full-hearted stops; And oftentimes he feels the dewy drops Come cool and suddenly against his face, And by the wandering melody …

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