Other content copyright
by original authors; no infringement of copyright is implied nor intended, and
copyright information will be gladly corrected upon proper notification.
If the information on
this website has been of assistance to you, please consider making a donation
towards its upkeep by clicking on the link below this message.
Thank you!
Faery Song by John Keats
John Keats
Ah! woe is me! poor silver-wing!
That I must chant they lady's dirge,
And death to this fair haunt of spring,
Of melody, and streams of flowery verge --
Poor silver-wing! ah! woe is me!
That I must see
These blossoms snow upon thy lady's pall!
Go, pretty page! and in her ear
Whisper that the hour is near!
Softly tell her not to fear
Such calm Favonian burial!
Go, pretty page! and soothly tell --
The blossoms hang by a melting spell,
And fall they must, ere a star wink thrice
Upon her closed eyes,
That now in vain are weeping their last tears,
At sweet life leaving, and these arbours green --
Rich dowry from the Spirit of the Spheres.
Alas! poor queen!
