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John Keats

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Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter: therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone.
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal — yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
--
Stanza 2.

 
John Keats

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Then listen! when this day is overpast,
A fearful monster shall I be again,
And thou mayst be my saviour at the last,
Unless, once more, thy words are nought and vain.
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Of twice the wealth that is in all the lands
From Cathay to the head of Italy;
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And hear the clatter of the summer rain,
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Go now, go quick! leave this grey heap of stone;
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How I shall love thee — yea, love thee alone,
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