Public Domain Poetry And Stories - A Prophecy : To George Keats In America by John Keats
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A Prophecy : To George Keats In America

    By John Keats



    '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!



Extra Info:
'These lines occur in a letter to George Keats dated the 29th of October 1818, first given by Lord Houghton in the Life, Letters &c., and appears to belong to that date. They follow immediately upon this message:
"If I had a prayer to make for any great good, next to Tom's recovery, it should be that one of your children should be the first American poet. I have a great mind to make a prophecy; and they say that prophecies work out their own fulfilment."'


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