Poem by John Keats

On Receiving a Laurel Crown from Leigh Hunt

MINUTES are flying swiftly, and as yet
Nothing unearthly has enticed my brain
Into a delphic Labyrinth I would fain
Catch an unmortal thought to pay the debt
I owe to the kind Poet who has set
Upon my ambitious head a glorious gain.
Two bending laurel Sprigs 'tis nearly pain
To be conscious of such a Coronet.
Still time is fleeting, and no dream arises
Gorgeous as I would have it only I see
A Trampling down of what the world most prizes
Turbans and Crowns, and blank regality;
And then I run into most wild surmises
Of all the many glories that may be.

1. Bards of Passion and of Mirth
2. Specimen of Induction to a Poem
3. Calidore
4. To (“Hadst Thou Liv’d in Days of Old…”)
5. The Castle Builder

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