Poems To The Psyche

On First Looking Into Keats's Ode To Nightingale

A heart that aches longs for love,

But a soul that is bitter is filled with hate,

And from fair to fair,life is rough,

But the good in life come when ye wait.

A melodius air is that of a godsend,

Either 'tis a being of land,air or sea.

Beautiful hymns toil us from thee, to faery lands,

There where only lustrous beauty is what we seek.

There where thou,winged angel may sing,

And perplex weary thoughts but,tremble and fret.

But here,Death spreads sorrow from the devil's wing,

Here,where dry lands fill with streams of misery and turn wet.

Shouldst thou,immortal bird,fear misery and weep?

Or shouldst thou still sing,till thee forever falls asleep