On leaving some friends at an early hour
-
John Keats
GIVE me a
golden pen, and let me lean
On heap’d up flowers, in regions clear, and far;
Bring me a
tablet whiter than a star,
Or hand of hymning angel, when ’tis seen
The silver strings of heavenly
harp atween:
And let there glide by many a pearly car,
Pink
robes, and wavy hair, and
diamond jar,
And half discovered
wings, and glances keen.
The while let music wander round my ears,
And as it reaches each delicious ending,
Let me write down a line of glorious tone,
And full of many wonders of the spheres:
For what a height my
spirit is contending!
’Tis not content so soon to be alone