Listen to:
A Thing of Beauty (1:51)
by John Keats
performed by Bob Gonzalez, rhapsode
from Endymion by John Keats
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 band 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 for our searching: yes, in
spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the
pall
From our dark spirits. Such the
sun, the moon,
Trees old, and young, sprouting a
shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are
daffodils
With the green world they live in;
and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling
covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the
mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair
musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the
dooms
We have imagined for the mighty
dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard
or read:
An endless fountain of immortal
drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's
brink.
Nor do we merely feel these
essences
For one short hour; no, even as the
trees
That whisper round a temple become
soon
Dear as the temple's self, so does
the moon,
The passion poesy, glories
infinite,
Haunt us till they become a
cheering light
Unto our souls, and bound to us so
fast
That, whether there be shine or
gloom o'ercast,
They always must be with us, or we
die.
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