Young Woman Reading by a Window - Delphin Enjolras From: Endymion Book 1 A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases, it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing A flowery hand to bind us to the earth, Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth Of noble natures, of the gloomy days, Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways Made of our searching; yes, in spite of all, Some shape of beauty moves away the pall From our dark spirits. John Keats (31st October 1795 - 23rd February 1821) from the book: Poem for the Day One |
Thursday 2 August 2012
The Thursday Poem
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