Keats
by jenkapotente
She dwells with Beauty – Beauty that must die;
And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:
Ay, in the very temple of Delight
Veil’d Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
Can burst Joy’s grape against his palate fine;
His soul shall taste the sadness of her might,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung.
[…] Jenka:https://jenkapotente.wordpress.com/2010/07/11/keats/ […]
this one is perfect fit,
beautiful job!
No, this is a poem by Keats, not me. I put his name in the title and I tagged him because it’s his work.
sorry,
I will remove this poem,
as you know, I was busy at the time, please don’t be mad….
Thanks. I just don’t want it to be misconstrued as plagiarism. =]
sorry,
I will remove this poem,
as you know, I was busy at the time, please don’t be mad….
Very good.
Interesting:D Thank for sharing!=P
[…] Link: https://jenkapotente.wordpress.com/2010/07/11/keats/ […]
[…] Jenka:https://jenkapotente.wordpress.com/2010/07/11/keats/ […]