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John Keats (Джон Китс)


Written In The Cottage Where Burns Was Born


This mortal body of a thousand days
Now fills, O Burns, a space in thine own room,
Where thou didst dream alone on budded bays,
Happy and thoughtless of thy day of doom!
My pulse is warm with thine old barley-bree,
My head is light with pledging a great soul,
My eyes are wandering, and I cannot see,
Fancy is dead and drunken at its goal;
Yet can I stamp my foot upon thy floor,
Yet can I ope thy window-sash to find
The meadow thou hast tramped o'er and o'er,--
Yet can I think of thee till thought is blind,--
Yet can I gulp a bumper to thy name,--
O smile among the shades, for this is fame! 



John Keats's other poems:
  1. Lines Written on 29 May, the Anniversary of Charles’s Restoration, on Hearing the Bells Ringing
  2. Gif Ye Wol Stonden Hardie Wight
  3. Teignmouth
  4. Addressed to the Same
  5. Think not of it, Sweet one, so


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