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User Rating: |
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8.6
/10
(14
votes)
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Happy is England! I could be content
To see no other verdure than its own;
To feel no other breezes than are blown
Through its tall woods with high romances blent:
Yet do I sometimes feel a languishment
For skies Italian, and an inward groan
To sit upon an Alp as on a throne,
And half forget what world or worldling meant.
Happy is England, sweet her artless daughters;
Enough their simple loveliness for me,
Enough their whitest arms in silence clinging:
Yet do I often warmly burn to see
Beauties of deeper glance, and hear their singing,
And float with them about the summer waters.
John Keats
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Read poems about / on: happy, sometimes, silence, summer, world, daughter, romance, sky, water
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Comments about this poem (Happy Is England
by
John Keats
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John Keats
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Omar Ibrahim
(10/31/2009 1:57:00 AM) |
in my point of view, john keats's mind was better than shakespear......i mean he wrote better.....you can read ''i stood tip-toe upon a little hill'' and you will know how..
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Ravi A
(8/14/2009 11:51:00 AM) |
If 'A thing of beauty is a joy forever' for Keats, then his sense of beauty cannot remain within the bounds of England. It will certainly overflow. In this poem, it actually happens. Beauties of deeper glance.... what a beautiful reflection on the concept of beauty. His mind also goes to the peaks of Alps, to the bountiness of nature. Though Keats is an English poet, his last resting place happens to be Italy. Perhaps, from his grave he may still be feeling a languishment for skies Italian! He may be longing for the peaks of Alps! May god bless him.
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