Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/757

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JOHN KEATS

626. Ode to Psyche

O Goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrungBy sweet enforcement and remembrance dear,And pardon that thy secrets should be sungEven into thine own soft-conchèd ear:Surely I dream'd to-day, or did I seeThe wingèd Psyche with awaken'd eyes?I wander'd in a forest thoughtlessly,And, on the sudden, fainting with surprise,Saw two fair creatures, couchèd side by sideIn deepest grass, beneath the whisp'ring roofOf leaves and trembled blossoms, where there ranA brooklet, scarce espied:'Mid hush'd, cool-rooted flowers fragrant-eyed,Blue, silver-white, and budded TyrianThey lay calm-breathing on the bedded grass;Their arms embracèd, and their pinions too;Their lips touch'd not, but had not bade adieu,As if disjoinèd by soft-handed slumber,And ready still past kisses to outnumberAt tender eye-dawn of aurorean love:The wingèd boy I knew;But who wast thou, O happy, happy dove?His Psyche true!
O latest-born and loveliest vision farOf all Olympus' faded hierarchy!Fairer than Phœbe's sapphire-region'd star,Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky;Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none,Nor altar heap'd with flowers;Nor Virgin-choir to make delicious moanUpon the midnight hours;

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