John Keats
BARDS of Passion and
of Mirth,
Ye have left your souls on earth!
Have ye souls in heaven too,
Doubled-lived in regions new?
Yes, and those of heaven commune
With
the spheres of sun and moon;
With the noise of fountains wondrous,
And
the parle of voices thund'rous;
With the whisper of heaven's trees
And
one another, in soft ease
Seated on Elysian lawns
Browsed by none but
Dian's fawns;
Underneath large blue-bells tented,
Where the daisies are
rose-scented,
And the rose herself has got
Perfume which on earth is
not;
Where the nightingale doth sing
Not a senseless, tranced thing,
But divine melodious truth;
Philosophic numbers smooth;
Tales and
golden histories
Of heaven and its mysteries.
Thus ye live on
high, and then
On the earth ye live again;
And the souls ye left behind
you
Teach us, here, the way to find you,
Where your other souls are
joying,
Never slumber'd, never cloying.
Here, your earth-born souls
still speak
To mortals, of their little week;
Of their sorrows and
delights;
Of their passions and their spites;
Of their glory and their
shame;
What doth strengthen and what maim.
Thus ye teach us, every day,
Wisdom, though fled far away.
Bards of Passion and of Mirth,
Ye have left your souls on earth!
Ye have souls in heaven too,
Double-lived in regions new!
