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Happy Is England

By John Keats (1795 - 1821)



Image of England by Hilda Whitworth ©


Happy Is England

Happy is England! I could be content
To see no other verdure than its own;
To feel no other breezes than are blown
Through its tall woods with high romances blent:
Yet do I sometimes feel a languishment
For skies Italian, and an inward groan
To sit upon an Alp as on a throne,
And half forget what world or worldling meant.
Happy is England, sweet her artless daughters;
Enough their simple loveliness for me,
Enough their whitest arms in silence clinging:
Yet do I often warmly burn to see
Beauties of deeper glance, and hear their singing,
And float with them about the summer waters.

By John Keats (1795 - 1821)

5 stars
Comment by Kaylee Flemings(19th September 2019)

I like classical literature. This is awesome. "Yet do I often warmly burn to see" this phrase is worth a lot. Great!

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