Keen, Fitful Gusts Are Whisp'ring Here And There [sonnet]

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Title:     Keen, Fitful Gusts Are Whisp'ring Here And There [sonnet]
Author: John Keats [More Titles by Keats]

Keen, fitful gusts are whisp'ring here and there
Among the bushes half leafless, and dry;
The stars look very cold about the sky,
And I have many miles on foot to fare.
Yet feel I little of the cool bleak air,
Or of the dead leaves rustling drearily,
Or of those silver lamps that burn on high,
Or of the distance from home's pleasant lair:
For I am brimfull of the friendliness
That in a little cottage I have found;
Of fair-hair'd Milton's eloquent distress,
And all his love for gentle Lycid drown'd;
Of lovely Laura in her light green dress,
And faithful Petrarch gloriously crown'd.

[The end]
John Keats's poem: Keen, Fitful Gusts Are Whisp'ring Here And There [sonnet]

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