She dwells with Beauty - Beauty that must die; And Joy, whose - TopicsExpress



          

She dwells with Beauty - Beauty that must die; And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh, Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips; Ay, in the very temple of delight Veiled Melancholy has her sovran shrine, Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue Can burst Joys grape against his palate fine; His soul shall taste the sadness of her might, And be among her cloudy trophies hung. -Keats
Posted on: Fri, 18 Oct 2013 02:25:31 +0000

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