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John Keats - A Prophecy: To George Keats In America
Work rating: Low

`Tis the witching hour of night,
Orbed is the moon and bright,
And the stars they glisten, glisten,
Seeming with bright eyes to listen --
     For what listen they?
For a song and for a charm,
See they glisten in alarm,
And the moon is waxing warm
     To hear what I shall say.
Moon! keep wide thy golden ears --
Hearken, stars! and hearken, spheres! --
Hearken, thou eternal sky!
I sing an infant`s lullaby,
     A pretty lullaby.
Listen, listen, listen, listen, 
Glisten, glisten, glisten, glisten,
     And hear my lullaby!
Though the rushes that will make
Its cradle still are in the lake -- 
Though the linen that will be
Its swathe, is on the cotton tree --
Though the woollen that will keep
It warm, is on the silly sheep --
Listen, starlight, listen, listen,
Glisten, glisten, glisten, glisten,
     And hear my lullaby!
Child, I see thee!  Child, I`ve found thee
Midst of the quiet all around thee!
And thy mother sweet is nigh thee!
But a Poet evermore!
See, see, the lyre, the lyre,
In a flame of fire,
Upon the little cradle`s top
Flaring, flaring, flaring,
Past the eyesight`s bearing,
Awake it from its sleep,
And see if it can keep
Its eyes upon the blaze --
     Amaze, amaze!
It stares, it stares, it stares,
It dares what no one dares!
It lifts its little hand into the flame
Unharm`d, and on the strings
Paddles a little tune, and sings,
With dumb endeavour sweetly --
Bard art thou completely!
     Little child
     O` th` western wild,
Bard art thou completely!
Sweetly with dumb endeavour,
A Poet now or never,
     Little child
     O` th` western wild,
A Poet now or never!
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