WHAT is there in the universal Earth

More lovely than a Wreath from the bay tree?

Haply a Halo round the Moon a glee

Circling from three sweet pair of Lips in Mirth;

And haply you will say the dewy birth

Of morning Roses ripplings tenderly

Spread by the Halcyon’s breast upon the Sea

But these Comparisons are nothing worth

Then is there nothing in the world so fair?

The silvery tears of April? Youth of May?

Or June that breathes out life for butterflies?

No none of these can from my favourite bear

Away the Palm yet shall it ever pay

Due Reverence to your most sovereign eyes.

 

***

John Keats

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