44 lines
2.0 KiB
Plaintext
44 lines
2.0 KiB
Plaintext
1816
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IMITATION OF SPENSER
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by John Keats
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Now Morning from her orient chamber came,
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And her first footsteps touch'd a verdant hill;
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Crowning its lawny crest with amber flame,
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Silv'ring the untainted gushes of its rill;
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Which, pure from mossy beds, did down distill,
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And after parting beds of simple flowers,
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By many streams a little lake did fill,
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Which round its marge reflected woven bowers,
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And, in its middle space, a sky that never lowers.
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There the king-fisher saw his plumage bright
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Vieing with fish of brilliant dye below;
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Whose silken fins, and golden scales' light
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Cast upward, through the waves, a ruby glow:
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There saw the swan his neck of arched snow,
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And oar'd himself along with majesty;
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Sparkled his jetty eyes; his feet did show
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Beneath the waves like Afric's ebony,
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And on his back a fay reclined voluptuously.
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Ah! could I tell the wonders of an isle
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That in that fairest lake had placed been,
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I could e'en Dido of her grief beguile;
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Or rob from aged Lear his bitter teen:
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For sure so fair a place was never seen,
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Of all that ever charm'd romantic eye:
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It seem'd an emerald in the silver sheen
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Of the bright waters; or as when on high,
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Through clouds of fleecy white, laughs the coerulean sky.
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And all around it dipp'd luxuriously
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Slopings of verdure through the glossy tide,
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Which, as it were in gentle amity,
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Rippled delighted up the flowery side;
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As if to glean the ruddy tears, it tried,
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Which fell profusely from the rose-tree stem!
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Haply it was the workings of its pride,
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In strife to throw upon the shore a gem
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Outvieing all the buds in Flora's diadem.
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THE END
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