The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 40

Sonnet

Sonnet.

On Keats.
Now while the air is sweet with breath of spring
And loud with liquid melody and mirth,
When budding flowers burst into early birth.
And orchard trees are white with blossoming,
And on their snowy twigs the sweet birds sing;
When beauty is new-born o'er all the earth,
And with the last chill wind, the fear of dearth
And other piercing fears have taken wing :
This is the season I would think of One,
The dear Endymion, the star-eyed youth
Who loved the quickened earth as doth the sun,
Whose heart was full of courage and of ruth,
Whose voice in sweetest melodies would run—
And lo! how Beauty war with him the Truth!