Written by John Keats in 1816, this is pure escapism. This was probably written while he was still in medical school in London, and would try to get away from both as often as possible, feeling only at ease (and thus able to write) when surrounded by trees and flowers.

The form is Petrarchan, and is extremely well written. By 1816 he was losing much of the awkwardness that marked his early verse.

Oh! how I love, on a fair summer's eve

Oh! how I love, on a fair summer's eve,
When streams of light pour down the golden west,
And on the balmy zephyrs tranquil rest
The silver clouds, far--far away to leave
All meaner thoughts, and take a sweet reprieve
From little cares:--to find, with easy quest,
A fragrant wild, with Nature's beauty drest,
And there into delight my soul deceive.
There warm my breast with patriotic lore,
Musing on Milton's fate--on Sydney's bier--
Till their stern forms before my mind arise:
Perhaps on the wing of poesy upsoar,--
Full often dropping a delicious tear,
When some melodious sorrow spells mine eyes.

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