Amy Lowell (Эми Лоуэлл)

To John Keats

Great master! Boyish, sympathetic man!
Whose orbed and ripened genius lightly hung
From life’s slim, twisted tendril and there swung
In crimson-sphered completeness; guardian
Of crystal portals through whose openings fan
The spiced winds which blew when earth was young,
Scattering wreaths of stars, as Jove once flung
A golden shower from heights cerulean.
Crumbled before thy majesty we bow.
Forget thy empurpled state, thy panoply
Of greatness, and be merciful and near;
A youth who trudged the highroad we tread now
Singing the miles behind him; so may we
Faint throbbings of thy music overhear.

1. Sancta Maria, Succurre Miseris
2. The Red Lacquer Music-Stand
3. At Night
4. Monadnock in Early Spring
5. The Painter on Silk

James Hunt (Джеймс Хант) To John Keats ("Tis well you think me truly one of those")

Тема стихотворения (Poem Theme): John Keats (Джон Китс)

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1446

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