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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=421007" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ode To Psyche</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">O Goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung <br> By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear,<br> And pardon that thy secrets should be sung<br> Even into thine own soft-conched ear:<br> Surely I dreamt to-day, or did I see<br> The winged Psyche with awaken'd eyes?<br> I wander'd in a forest thoughtlessly,<br> And, on the sudden, fainting with surprise,<br> Saw two fair creatures, couched side by side<br> In deepest grass, beneath the whisp'ring roof<br> Of leaves and trembled blossoms, where there ran<br> A brooklet, scarce espied:</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Mid hush'd, cool-rooted flowers, fragrant-eyed,<br> Blue, silver-white, and budded Tyrian,<br> They lay calm-breathing, on the bedded grass;<br> Their arms embraced, and their pinions too;<br> Their lips touch'd not, but had not bade adieu,<br> As if disjoined by soft-handed slumber,<br> And ready still past kisses to outnumber<br> At tender eye-dawn of aurorean love:<br> The winged boy I knew;<br> But who wast thou, O happy, happy dove?<br> His Psyche true!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O latest born and loveliest vision far<br> Of all Olympus' faded hierarchy!<br> Fairer than Ph{oe}be's sapphire-region'd star,<br> Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky;<br> Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none,<br> Nor altar heap'd with flowers;<br> Nor virgin-choir to make delicious moan<br> Upon the midnight hours;<br> No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet<br> From chain-swung censer teeming;<br> No shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat<br> Of pale-mouth'd prophet dreaming.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O brightest! though too late for antique vows,<br> Too, too late for the fond believing lyre,<br> When holy were the haunted forest boughs,<br> Holy the air, the water, and the fire;<br> Yet even in these days so far retir'd<br> From happy pieties, thy lucent fans,<br> Fluttering among the faint Olympians,<br> I see, and sing, by my own eyes inspir'd.<br> So let me be thy choir, and make a moan<br> Upon the midnight hours;<br> Thy voice, thy lute, thy pipe, thy incense sweet<br> From swinged censer teeming;<br> Thy shrine, thy grove, thy oracle, thy heat<br> Of pale-mouth'd prophet dreaming.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Yes, I will be thy priest, and build a fane<br> In some untrodden region of my mind,<br> Where branched thoughts, new grown with pleasant pain,<br> Instead of pines shall murmur in the wind:<br> Far, far around shall those dark-cluster'd trees<br> Fledge the wild-ridged mountains steep by steep;<br> And there by zephyrs, streams, and birds, and bees,<br> The moss-lain Dryads shall be lull'd to sleep;<br> And in the midst of this wide quietness<br> A rosy sanctuary will I dress<br> With the wreath'd trellis of a working brain,<br> With buds, and bells, and stars without a name,<br> With all the gardener Fancy e'er could feign,<br> Who breeding flowers, will never breed the same:<br> And there shall be for thee all soft delight<br> That shadowy thought can win,<br> A bright torch, and a casement ope at night,<br> To let the warm Love in!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Keats">John Keats</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=421007" data-title="Ode To Psyche de John Keats" data-description="O Goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung 
 By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear,
 And pardon that thy secrets should be sung
 Even into thine own soft-conched ear:
 Surely I dreamt to-day, or did I see
 The winged Psyche with awaken'd ey..."></div>
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