Tag Archive: And faithful Petrarch gloriously crown’d.

Keen, fitful gusts are whisp’ring here and there

Other Sonnets of John Keats→ Keen, fitful gusts are whisp’ring here and there Among the bushes half leafless, and dry; The stars look very cold about the sky, And I have many miles on foot to fare. Yet feel I little of the cool bleak air, Or of the dead leaves rustling drearily, Or of …

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