Page:Keats - Poetical Works, DeWolfe, 1884.djvu/123

---

No more delight—I bid adieu to all.
Didst thou not after other climates call,
And murmur about Indian streams?"—Then she,
Sitting beneath the midmost forest tree,
For pity sang this roundelay——
 
"O Sorrow!
Why dost borrow
The natural hue of health, from vermeil lips?—
To given maiden blushes
To the white rose bushes?
Or is it thy dewy hand the daisy tips?

"O Sorrow!
Why dost borrow
The lustrous passion from a falcon-eye ?—
To give the glow-worm light ?
Or, on a moonless night,
To tinge, on syren shores, the salt sea-spry ?

"O Sorrow !
Why dost borrow
The mellow ditties from a mourning tongue?—
To give at evening pale
Unto the nightingale,
That thou mayst listen the cold dews among?

"O Sorrow!
Why dost borrow
Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?
A lover would not tread
A cowslip on the head,