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John Keats - Lines On Seeing A Lock Of Milton`s Hair
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Chief of organic Numbers! 
Old Scholar of the Spheres! 
Thy spirit never slumbers, 
But rolls about our ears 
For ever and for ever. 
O, what a mad endeavour 
Worketh he 
Who, to thy sacred and ennobled hearse, 
Would offer a burnt sacrifice of verse 
And Melody! 

How heavenward thou soundedst 
Live Temple of sweet noise; 
And discord unconfoundedst: 
Giving delight new joys, 
And Pleasure nobler pinions-- 
O where are thy Dominions! 
Lend thine ear 
To a young delian oath--aye, by thy soul, 
By all that from thy mortal Lips did roll; 
And by the Kernel of thine earthly Love, 
Beauty, in things on earth and things above, 
When every childish fashion 
Has vanish`d from my rhyme 
Will I grey-gone in passion 
Give to an after-time 
Hymning and harmony 
Of thee, and of thy Words and of thy Life: 
But vain is now the bruning and the strife-- 
Pangs are in vain -- until I grow high-rife 
With Old Philosophy 
And mad with glimpses at futurity! 

For many years my offerings must be hush`d: 
When I do speak I`ll think upon this hour, 
Because I feel my forehead hot and flush`d, 
Even at the simplest vassal of thy Power,-- 
A Lock of thy bright hair! 
Sudden it came, 
And I was startled when I heard thy name 
Coupled so unaware-- 
Yet, at the moment, temperate was my blood: 
Methought I had beheld it from the flood.
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