Sonnet XIV: Addressed To The Same (Haydon)

by


    Great spirits now on earth are sojourning;
    He of the cloud, the cataract, the lake,
    Who on Helvellyn's summit, wide awake,
    Catches his freshness from Archangel's wing:
    He of the rose, the violet, the spring, 
    The social smile, the chain for Freedom's sake:
    And lo! whose stedfastness would never take
    A meaner sound than Raphael’s whispering.
    And other spirits there are standing apart
    Upon the forehead of the age to come; 
    These, these will give the world another heart,
    And other pulses. Hear ye not the hum
    Of mighty workings?
    Listen awhile ye nations, and be dumb.

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Return to the John Keats Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; Sonnet X: To One Who Has Been Long In City Pent

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