Keen, Fitful Gusts Are Whisp'ring Here And There

John Keats

Keen, fitful gusts are whisp'ring here and there
    Among the bushes half leafless, and dry; 
    The stars look very cold about the sky, 
And I have many miles on foot to fare.
Yet feel I little of the cool bleak air,
    Or of the dead leaves rustling drearily, 
    Or of those silver lamps that burn on high, 
Or of the distance from home's pleasant lair:
For I am brimfull of the friendliness
    That in a little cottage I have found; 
Of fair-hair'd Milton's eloquent distress,
    And all his love for gentle Lycid drown'd; 
Of lovely Laura in her light green dress,
    And faithful Petrarch gloriously crown'd.

Next 10 Poems

• John Keats : La Belle Dame Sans Merci
• John Keats : Last Sonnet
• John Keats : Lines
• John Keats : Lines From Endymion
• John Keats : Lines On The Mermaid Tavern
• John Keats : Meg Merrilies
• John Keats : O Blush Not So!
• John Keats : O Solitude! If I Must With Thee Dwell
• John Keats : Ode
• John Keats : Ode On A Grecian Urn

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• John Keats : Isabella Or The Pot Of Basil
• John Keats : In Drear-nighted December
• John Keats : If By Dull Rhymes Our English Must Be Chain'd
• John Keats : Hyperion: Book Iii
• John Keats : Hyperion: Book Ii
• John Keats : Hyperion: Book I
• John Keats : Hyperion
• John Keats : Hymn To Apollo
• John Keats : How Many Bards Gild The Lapses Of Time!
• John Keats : Hither, Hither, Love